Of Life & Death, Truth & Lies
by An0nymouse
Summary: Bo's pregnant by an incubus - which is illegal by Fae law. Naturally she runs, but she's got both Light and Dark Fae after her...


Lost Girl - Of Life & Death, Truth & Lies

This one is longer than I intended (but I just couldn't stop writing it), and unintentionally sad (though that's just the way it turned out), and, oddly enough, was pretty much completed _before_ its preceding story. It's set about 12 weeks after _Homeward Bound, And Back Again _(which has a plot detail I needed here, though that tale is otherwise entirely unrelated and is more of an interlude than anything else), and, I hope, has everything - action, humour, tragedy, pathos…

Once again, my muse has run away with me; the trilogy of _Up, Up And A-Fae!, Vexed II: The Reckoning,_ _Schooling A Succubus_ and _Fae-th, Hope & Charity _(following the latter's sudden intrusion into my plans) is now a _pentalogy_. Her and her weird ideas!

But here, for definite, it ends! The next one I'm planning to write has nothing whatsoever to do with these five stories, and will _not_ result in a hexalogy! (Actually, _Fae-th, Hope & Charity_ isn't actually finished yet, but I'm posting this story now because I'm quite proud of it. As soon as I get over my current writer's block, _Fae-th, Hope & Charity will_ be finished and posted!)

_Author's Note:_ I started writing all these fics _before_ Season 2 began airing in the UK, and as a result there are a few disagreements with canon, the main one being that the Light Elders as a whole do _not_ know - yet - that Aoife's back, and it doesn't appear that the Dark Elders were attacked. Not only that, but Dyson was apparently a lone wolf for centuries, after his king broke faith with him. So be it. This is fanfic, after all. It doesn't necessarily _have_ to agree with canon. :) Far more important IMO is that a) the characters' voices are correct, and b) the story is _consistent_ with the world established by canon if not fully compliant with it. I may - emphasise '_may'_ - rewrite bits after Season 2 has been completely aired in the UK. For the moment, though, my fics remain in a parallel continuum (which sometimes cross-breeds with canon).

_Note #2:_ Elder Wallis's pet was first briefly mentioned in _Schooling A Succubus,_ was created just for fun, may return at some point, and is not intended to be taken seriously. :)

_Note #3:_ The part about Vincent van Gogh was inspired by my viewing of _It's Better To Burn Out Than Fae Away_ (ep 2.06). Don't you dare take that bit seriously either, peeps. :) But I did want to depict the Morrigan as more than just a callous, cruel, devious bitch (though after that episode, there is no doubt whatsoever that she _is_); as with all bad guys, there's room for complexity in her character.

x

It began innocuously enough, with a call from Trick. _"I'm afraid Elder Wallis's pet has escaped again,"_ he told Bo. _"Could I trouble you to…?"_

"Yeah, yeah, we'll go traipsing 'round the woods again for something which in any decent world wouldn't exist," Bo told him tiredly.

_"Thanks, Bo. Dyson's waiting with the equipment at the Dal. See you soon."_

"Hey," Bo called to Kenzi, who was just finishing in the shower, "we're off into the wilds again!"

Kenzi, her hair wrapped in a towel, poked her head out of the bathroom. "What is it _this_ time?"

"Elder Wallis's pet again."

"I dunno, if people can't look after their own glow-in-the-dark two-headed kitty thingies, they shouldn't have them," Kenzi scolded. Bo couldn't help but laugh at that.

x

With Dyson's nose and Bo's sharp eyes to guide them - and the fact that the damn thing really _did_ glow in the dark, a bright yellow-green colour - the creature wasn't at all hard to find, of course.

Catching it, however, was another matter; it was as nimble as the cat it resembled. The thing had flexible necks, so one head could look out for danger and/or back the way it had come, watching for pursuers, while the other could look where it was going. It wasn't especially dangerous _per se_, actually rather like a kitten in terms of temperament - mischievous more than anything else. It was a beloved companion to Wallis's sixteen children and stepchildren (it seemed that some Fae were less infertile than others). Of course, if humans were to see it…

"Why'd he make the damn thing anyway?" Bo groused. "Why couldn't he just get a kitten? There're plenty of 'em at the homeless shelter…"

"That _is _where he got it originally," Dyson chuckled.

"What, you mean that thing _was_ a kitten? Oh, that's just - eew!"

"He seemed to think it could use a new lease of life. He's something of a meddler with nature, I'm afraid. A kitten, a firefly, a spell or two, and…poof, as Kenzi might say," he ended.

"Why _two_ heads? It's bad enough it glows in the dark!"

"Humans create transgenic species, too, Bo." She stared at him; he shrugged. "So I talked to Lauren about it. Shoot me."

"Just don't turn geek on me, that's all," Bo muttered as she turned away, thinking he couldn't hear. "_One_ cute geek's enough…"

She didn't see his smile in the dark.

x

It took them less than six hours to secure the whatever-it-was. It mewed from both mouths simultaneously as it gazed at Bo from inside the cage and batted at her hand with a paw. It would actually have been quite cute, Bo thought…if it weren't for the whole two-headed thing.

"Five hours, forty-nine minutes. That's gotta be a record for catchin' this thing," Kenzi yawned. "Is it worth goin' back to bed?"

"We still have to take it in, and report its capture," Dyson too yawned, then stopped short and stared at Bo in open curiosity. "Did you change your perfume?"

"Huh? I don't wear perfume," Bo frowned.

"Sorry, I just thought…you smell different." He grimaced, or so Bo thought; he was actually flehming, sampling both taste and scent; the Jacobson's organ wasn't merely vestigial in shifters as it was in humans.

Kenzi knew (from, of all sources, Jungle Jeeves) what he was doing, so she quipped, "Hey, she doesn't smell _that_ bad."

"Hey!" Bo protested, swatting Kenzi. "I do not smell!"

x

Once they got back home, Kenzi immediately collapsed on the couch. But Bo didn't go back to bed. She was too preoccupied. She knew how keen Dyson's sense of smell was, even by lupine _(thanks, Lauren)_ standards. If he thought her scent had changed, then it _had._

Why, though?

_Hell with it, it wouldn't hurt to check. I bet Lauren's up…_

x

She was. In fact, she hadn't been to bed yet. "Your scent's changed?" she repeated. "Hmm, that's odd. Of course, you _did_ learn how to do that yourself."

_"Yeah, but I wasn't doing it. I don't, if I can help it - something Sinéad didn't tell me was that it takes a lot out of me if I do it deliberately. It's as if my…I suppose you'd call it my default scent…has changed. Do you have any idea why?"_

"I can't tell over the _phone,_ Bo; even I'm not _that_ good," she reproved Bo mildly. Bo only chuckled.

_"I'll come in, then, if you're not busy - don't worry, I'll make sure to avoid Lachlan."_

"Now you're teasing me again. You know perfectly well I'm _always_ busy. You also know," she added more warmly, "I'm never too busy for _you_."

_"Thanks, Lauren. I'm on my way."_

x

Things took a left turn as soon as Bo entered the lab; Lauren immediately turned, and frowned. "You _do_ smell different."

"What, _you_ can tell that?" Bo asked, surprised.

"A good sense of smell can be a valuable diagnostic tool to a doctor, Bo; an anosmic person would never even make it into medical school." She chuckled at Bo's nonplussed look and elaborated: "Someone with no sense of smell. I'd better examine you."

"One of these days you'll just talk plainly, and I'll probably die of shock," Bo quipped. She stripped and sat on the table.

"Um…you didn't actually need to strip, Bo." She wavered between propriety and pleasure, and propriety won out…sort of. "On the other hand, it might be helpful to isolate the cause of the change…"

She kept the examination utterly professional, but Bo wasn't fooled, or offended. "There's no sign of external infection, fungi and the like…maybe an endocrine imbalance…hmm." She stroked Bo's skin gently; it wasn't quite a caress, as she was checking the texture. "Your skin texture's definitely altered, too. When was the last time you gave me a blood sample?"

"The last time you examined me, Countess Dracula," was Bo's spirited rejoinder. "Seems every time I see you these days you stick a needle in me. I'm starting to think you've got a fetish or something."

"I do," Lauren shot back, "for uppity succubi." She looked abashed. "Sorry, I didn't mean that; it's been a long night for me." Bo smiled forgivingly; Lauren smiled back, and then reverted to her professional persona. "But if your scent's changed - and it _has_ - there has to be a specific reason. So…"

Bo sighed, and presented her arm for the needle.

x

She didn't like Lauren's expression one bit as she studied the results on a computer screen some hours later. But she did recognise one word: _oestrogen_. That was a female hormone, she knew.

And the reading was, she suspected, rather high. "Um, is that bad?"

Lauren straightened. "That depends on your point of view. I think I'll need a urine sample, too."

"You gotta be kidding me," Bo sighed.

"Please, Bo, it's important. If this is what I think it is…"

Bo was worried now. Lauren was acting apprehensive, and she wasn't one to worry over nothing. "Should I just pee here?" she kidded. It didn't work. She shrugged, and took the sample cup.

x

"Okay, which version do you want - short and to the point, or," she smiled slightly, seeing an opportunity to tease Bo for once, "long and science-y?"

"The one where you tell me nothing's wrong," Bo answered as she finished dressing.

"Well, nothing _is_ wrong. I'm sorry, Bo, I think I gave you the wrong impression - there's nothing _wrong_ with you; more something _right._"

"Well, _what?_ What's going _on_ with me?"

"You're pregnant."

"I'm _WHAT?_" Bo yelled. That was the _last_ thing she'd expected to hear, short and to the point or not!

"Have you noticed any tenderness in your breasts lately? Any mood swings, maybe even bouts of crying?"

"Lauren, I'm _always_ moody. You, uh, might have noticed," she added wryly.

Lauren chuckled fondly. "There _have_ been hints, yes. And the rest?"

Bo thought carefully. "Well…my breasts _are_ a little tender right now, but I thought that was just my period. Hey, wait - I've just _had_ one. So I _can't_ be pregnant."

"That's a classic mistake, Bo, one made by millions of expectant mothers. It's true that periods are _supposed_ to stop when a woman conceives, and usually they do…but not always. But what really nails it down," she indicated the screen, "is the presence in your bloodstream and urine of _that_ hormone, human chorionic gonadotropin."

"Um, 'human'?" Bo pointed out, still stunned.

"Well, the Fae equivalent; it's close enough for these purposes. The _only_ circumstances under which it's produced are during pregnancy, or by a cancerous tumour - and Fae are completely immune to those. I did research for a paper which explains why…and which you're entirely uninterested in," she nodded wryly. "The test's quite definitive." She smiled broadly. "So I guess congratulations are in order." She frowned. "The only strange thing is that as far as I can tell you're not quite as far along as you should be - it's only a week or two, but it's odd…plus there are traces of a very peculiar hormone I can't identify in your bloodstream. The medical diagnostic program classified it as some sort of inhibitor, one I've never seen before."

But Bo was no longer listening. "Jesus," she breathed, shocked to her core. She'd never even considered it. Quite without realising it, she put a hand to her belly in the age-old gesture even men understood. "But…I thought Fae were generally infertile, they don't have many kids…"

"That's true, sadly," Lauren agreed, "though I'm still trying to find out why - by the Ash's command, actually. The previous Ash, I mean, though Lachlan's endorsing the research," she added. "But that hardly makes it impossible - especially," she suddenly realised, "if there are _fertility drugs _in your system…!"

"Sinéad," Bo gasped. "She was dosing me…"

"Bo," Lauren suddenly looked all urgent business, "this is extremely important, and I apologise in advance for the invasion of privacy, but - _who was the last man you had unprotected sex with?_"

"Damon," she whispered.

"Oh, God," Lauren moaned, turning pale. "Oh, God…Bo, I'm sorry, but I _have_ to inform the Elders. Don't go anywhere!"

She hurried towards the door; Bo intercepted her. "Hey! What the _hell?_ What d'you mean, you have to inform - what the hell's it got to do with _them?_"

"He's an incubus, Bo!"

"I _know_ that - but so what?" Then it hit her.

Lauren was afraid - terrified, in fact.

"Hey," she asked softly, stroking Lauren's cheek, "what's wrong? Why's it such a big deal, huh? Even Fae have to get pregnant _sometime._"

Lauren gulped. "Bo, incubi aren't _allowed_ to sire children on succubi…it's _illegal_. It's forbidden by Fae law."

"What, they're gonna throw me in the pokey for getting pregnant? That's a new low, even for them!"

"No, no…oh, God, it'll take a while to explain…I'm so sorry…"

She broke free and fled, Bo staring after her.

_What the fuck is going _on?

x

It was half an hour before she heard approaching footsteps - but not just Lauren's.

Aoibheann hove into view - flanked by two men she didn't recognise, but who had the look of hired muscle; Lauren was following them, looking pale and frightened. Aiobheann wasted no time in preamble. "Is it true, Bo? You are with Damon's child?"

"Well, apparently, yeah. Look, what the hell _is_ this?" she demanded, really worried now.

"Guards, wait outside," Aiobheann ordered. "If she should attempt to escape, stop her _at all costs _- but do _not_ harm her in any way. _She_ has committed no crime."

They bowed and exited. Aoibheann turned to Bo. "Forgive me, Bo, but as yet you have no idea of the urgency of the matter; I must explain -"

"I wish to fuck _someone_ would!" Bo snapped. Aoibheann threw her a look of fury, and she relented. "I'm sorry. Look, I'm getting scared here; what am I supposed to have _done?_"

"If you will _allow_ me," Aoibheann said gently, "I shall make things clear. It is, I fear, a long story…"

x

She sighed. "Ironically enough, it began with Aoife. You are aware of her power and skill as a succubus, of course. She is extraordinary by the standards of succubi - as, indeed, are you yourself. There is a reason for it: Aoife's father was an incubus, and I am a succubus." She paused, and looked disgusted. "He was also, I must tell you, a perverted degenerate who deserved the death I gave him! He -" She hesitated. "Even after all this time, I scarce can tell it, but it _must_ be told…_he raped me_." She sighed again. "Aoife was the result - indeed, the _intent._

"Before I explain that, I must now ask a boon of you both: if ever you encounter Aoife again, _she must not know this._ She is unstable enough with the kind lie I told her during her childhood, namely that her deceased father was a warrior who gave his life to defend me in the wilds of the Indian subcontinent, where I was visiting a relative. It was partly true, as the best lies generally are; I did visit a cousin there - but I was already carrying her. I did not return until she was three months old, and I declared her to be a premature babe. I…I did not wish her to know the shameful way in which she was conceived. I implore you: keep my secret," she pleaded, "for Aoife's sake, not mine."

Bo and Lauren shared a look, and nodded. "On my blood honour, Aoibheann," Bo swore.

"And mine, if that's acceptable from a human," Lauren added.

Aoibheann smiled. "For me, from you, it suffices, Lauren. Thank you. To continue:

"It was already well known that children of succubi, when their sires were incubi, were _always_ more powerful than the norm. What was _not_ clear, at first, was the effect these enhanced abilities had on the children's minds." She shook her head sadly. "Always, to a fault, they came into their powers even before their womanhood or manhood - 'puberty' is the modern word for it, I believe." She glanced at Lauren, who nodded. "However it is phrased, they were too young, too immature, to properly harness and control their powers. They were aggressive, violent, and ambitious - destructively so. Aoife was no exception.

"I tried. Truly I tried. I attempted to instil a respect for others, an appreciation for the virtues of compassion, though without a true, loving father to guide her, it was so hard. By the time she reached her first decade, it was too late; her powers emerged almost explosively." A tear ran down her cheek. "Three other children died that day."

"My God," Bo breathed. "Why -?"

"She did not _intend_ to kill them - at least, to this day I do not believe so - but she knew her power and wished to try it out, as it were. Only after she had drained the third was she satiated, and calmed enough for me to control her. What was worse, however, was that she felt no real remorse for her actions. This was ominous, even sinister, and I feared greatly for her future. But I could not have foreseen the way events would develop…

"Other incubi eventually realised the scope for power by proxy, and began actively _hunting_ all succubi of childbearing age, or even a year or two short of it. It was a time of chaos, and I realised I could not protect her if I too were being hunted. I had no choice; I took her away, to Tibet, there to live among an order of monks who could, I hoped, teach her control. They were successful, to a degree.

"Meanwhile, in my absence, the Elders decided, if somewhat belatedly, to take action, and met with the Dark Elders; thus was the law passed. Incubi who subsequently attempted to sire children on succubi would be punished by death. It was also decreed…" She couldn't hold back the sob, "…it was decreed that any children so sired should not be born. They were too dangerous. We returned to the old country after several years, and Aoife remained safe, but only because she was the last such child born before the law was passed, and because she _had_, by then, acquired a measure of control and stability. By then, too, she was well able to defend herself, and in fact she soon found a high-ranking suitor willing to protect her…until he realised the potential opportunity she represented.

"He was Dark Fae, a clan leader -" She heard Bo's gasp, and nodded. "Yes, the clan leader she killed, of whom Trick told you. He did not tell you _why_ she killed him, as he did not know; doubtless he assumed it was part of a larger plan of Aoife's. It was not; her reason, of course, was entirely," she sighed, "personal. The rebellion she led was a different issue entirely."

It seemed all too obvious. "_He_ was an incubus, wasn't he? He raped her, didn't he?" Aoibheann nodded soberly. "Dear God," Bo murmured. "No wonder…" A thought struck her. "Was he - was he trying to get her pregnant?"

"Correct. He himself was not so powerful, but he knew any child by him out of Aoife certainly _would_ be. He cared naught for _her_ feelings on the matter, of course, or for its illegality; he was ambitious…"

_"If it were so,"_ Lauren quoted, _"it was a grievous fault; and grievously hath Caesar answer'd it. _Sorry, I used to be a Shakespeare buff."

"As did I," Aiobheann reflected wryly, "even _before_ it became fashionable. He was a strange, remarkable man."

"Uh, can we get back to Aoife?" Bo wondered.

"Indeed. She killed him, as I said; the timing could not have been worse, coming as it did just after peace was declared. It was the act of rape which again unbalanced her mind, or at least that was the start of it. She fled, to Trick...and you know how that part of the story ended," she finished, another tear flowing down her cheek. "His plan failed; she was not got with child. _You_, Bo, are her only child as far as I am aware - and I doubt your father is an incubus…" she managed to smile, "you aren't _that_ unstable."

"Gee, thanks. So where does all this leave _me?_"

"Aoife herself is, as I said, extraordinary, though perhaps not so much as she might have been; her sire," she snorted contemptuously, "was nothing special as incubi went. I must confess," she added with wry self-deprecation, "that nor am I, as succubi go. However," she went on grimly, "Damon is a different matter entirely…and you are Aoife's child. If you are got with female child, as is all too likely, she will be powerful _beyond all reason or control_." Her voice rose; she sounded in near panic. "The Morrigan is concerned only with her own ambitions, and truly does not comprehend what she has wrought with her obscene machinations! The babe will likely come into her powers _before her first decade!_ Bo, I beseech you, _think_ of what that will mean! She will be _impossible_ to control!"

"And that's her fault _how,_ exactly? You're gonna punish her just for _existing?_"

_"It is not a question of 'fault', or of punishment!"_ Aoibheann cried in anguish. "This child must _not_ be born!"

And at last, Bo saw why Lauren was so frightened. She was afraid for _Bo._

"You're not suggesting -!" she gasped in horror.

"Lauren," Aoibheann pronounced, "you, as a servant of the Ash, know your duty. It must be done with all speed and mercy, but _it must be done._"

"No," Lauren whispered, tears streaming down her stricken face. "I _can't_…Bo is my _friend…_"

"In the Ash's name, I _command_ you," Aiobheann ordered sternly. _"Obey!"_

Bo had heard enough. She broke for the exit - drawing a knife from each boot as she did.

_"GUARDS!"_ Aiobheann screamed. _**"STOP HER!"**_

They tried. But desperation gave Bo an incredible edge of speed; she dived towards them, twisted in mid-air like a cat and passed between them - slashing out with her knives as she did so. Both guards were hamstrung in an instant before they could react. She almost slit their throats as they fell, but somehow managed to stop herself just in time. They didn't deserve that; they were just obeying orders.

That didn't stop her kicking each in the face to make sure, though.

_"Run!"_ Lauren cried hysterically.

She did.

Aiobheann only shook her head sadly. "She will not escape. And _you,_" she growled, "shall answer for your insubordination. Come with me!"

She didn't bother waiting for an answer; Lauren found herself helpless in Aiobheann's steel grip as she was dragged by one arm.

_Run, Bo,_ she prayed. _God help you…_

As it happened, Bo _did_ escape. It wasn't easy, though remarkably no-one died.

A few came close, though.

Through a combination of combat skills, succubus abilities, rage fuelled by sheer desperation and the guards' arrogance and conviction of their superiority, she managed it, and fled for the only possible refuge.

x

Aiobheann reported to the Ash immediately, dragging Lauren behind her. He was singularly unimpressed at first: "Our secular succubus is pregnant? Hmm, that's vaguely interesting, but hardly surprising given the way she carries on -"

He was startled by Aiobheann's - well, the best way to describe the sound she made was a polite snarl. "Milord, you would do well to have a care for your tongue when speaking ill of my granddaughter!"

"Is that a _threat,_ Aiobheann?" he inquired mildly.

"A statement of fact; you may interpret it as you wish," she retorted. "Ash or no, you will _not_ speak to _me_ as you would a child!" she declared, with arrogant pride. "I had loved, fought, borne children, bled in the wars and lost friends to them ere _you_ were even a gleam in your father's eye, upstart! Do not forget that you rule only with the support of the Elders - lose _that_, and you are a tree without roots…to be washed away in the tide of events."

"Very poetic," he smiled, but inclined his head nonetheless; he wasn't totally stupid. Aiobheann was the last person he needed as an enemy. "I do apologise. I confess to being mystified as to why this is so important, though - or, for that matter, why you're dragging my property around like a piece of luggage."

She spared Lauren a pained glance; angry though she was over the girl's defiance, Aiobheann disapproved of the Ash's disdainful attitude towards her. She turned back to Lachlan, and delivered the bombshell:

_"Damon is the child's sire."_

She explained how it came about while he'd been visiting relatives (and the Blackthorn) in the old country, and apologised for not informing him previously, "But we believed, at first, that naught had come of it. We were wrong, sad to say, as Lauren has discovered. Apparently the Morrigan had her dosed with some potion to delay conception, which is why she earlier tested negative for pregnancy."

Instantly he was all business. "I see. So Evony's plan _worked,_ then…foolish witch that she is! Very well - where is the succubus now?"

"She has a _name!_" Aiobheann snapped, offended on Bo's behalf. "Use it, _milord, _or I will use _yours!_"

"Very well," he said again, exasperated, "where is _Bo?_"

"She escaped," Aiobheann admitted. "The guards sorely underestimated her, both as a warrior and as a seductress. They will be disciplined, of course -"

"That doesn't answer my question!" Lachlan barked. _"Where is she?_"

x

Trick could easily have answered that; he was serving Aiobheann's courier, Róisín, a glass of wine when Bo burst through the door, looking wild-eyed, dishevelled and covered in blood. This, of course, was nothing unusual for her. Her first words were, however:

"Sanctuary!" she cried, "I ask for Sanctuary! Trick, _please! They're coming!_"

Trick responded instantly, as she'd prayed he would: "_Fae! _Clear the bar, please! For the _third _time this year, Sanctuary has been invoked!"

No-one argued; Bo had made a lot of friends among the Dal's clientele - she'd even helped a couple of them with problems. Several touched her arm on their way out, offering wordless support; she smiled gratefully at each one.

Róisín was the last to leave; as she brushed against Bo, she gasped. "Oh, my lovely, I didn't realise…oh, you're not as young as I thought…" she met Bo's eyes, "…not any more, eh?"

"I don't understand," Bo frowned.

"Oh, I think you do, Bo. When you're free, let me know, eh? I think I _will_ partake of your favours, after all. Good luck, love. You're going to need it, for sure."

She kissed Bo on the cheek - having to stretch right up onto her tiptoes to do so - and vanished.

"Sprites can sense things, Bo," Trick explained. "Now, I want you to explain what she sensed, why you're threatening my livelihood and who's after you, and why."

"The Elders," Bo sighed, grabbing a stray drink. "I'm sort of carrying Damon's baby."

Trick actually paled. "Oh, dear - that _is_ a bit more serious than I thought."

"You won't turn me over, will you? I've been told it's illegal for incubi to impregnate succubi, but…"

"Shut up, of _course_ I won't. Sanctuary is Sanctuary, Bo. I'd even grant it to the Morrigan, if she asked. By tradition, it must be open to all, no matter what they've done, or it - and my word - has no value."

"Don't even _mention_ that bitch to me," Bo growled. "This is _her_ fault!"

"At the risk of sounding indelicate, does, ah, does Damon know?"

"I don't think so. Trick, this is _my_ problem."

"It's _his_, too, Bo," Trick pointed out fairly. "He has a right to know."

"And what'll he say?" she asked bitterly. "He never _wanted_ kids! Will _he_ tell me to hand myself over? Aiobheann was ordering Lauren to _cut the baby out of me,_ Trick! Oh, she refused, bless her, but now _she's_ in trouble, too - and there's not a damn thing I can do about it!"

x

She would have been surprised to learn she was wrong, but the Ash had other, far more urgent things on his mind…recovering her, for example. He now seemed to regard as unimportant the fact that Lauren had been dragged before him.

And Lauren couldn't help but wonder why Aiobheann had elected not to tell him of her defiance, though she didn't dare say a word.

"Where would she go, Aiobheann? Surely not to her hovel, she couldn't keep a rat out of there. Where might she find refuge?"

_I cannot believe he is so ingenuous,_ Aiobheann thought exasperatedly. "The Dal Riata, of course; where else?" she answered.

"Where Trick will grant her Sanctuary," Lachlan realised belatedly. "Oh, _damn_ that bloody interfering barkeep! Well, what choice do we have? We can't possibly leave her to her own devices; summon the guards - we will take her by force!"

"No!" she cried. "Milord, I beg you, think again! The Dal is _neutral territory_ - if we were to violate it, the Dark Fae might well object! There is an alternative to armed assault!"

"Oh?"

"Let _me_ speak to her. She is of my blood. She might listen - especially if I secure her friends' cooperation."

"Would that include my little Lauren, perchance? Is _that_ why you're carting her around?"

Aiobheann restrained her sigh. "She and Bo are close. If all else fails, she will surely listen to her closest friend, Kenzi."

"And if, as I think far more likely, Bo won't cooperate?"

Aiobheann sighed. "Then we must take her. Give me two hours," she entreated. But he shook his head.

"You have _one_. Use it wisely, Aiobheann." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "And I see an opportunity here to break up Bo's little clique…have Dyson located," he ordered, "bid him wait in the antechamber until I'm ready. Go."

She frowned at that, not understanding, then, what he was about, but gave the appropriate orders before heading to the Dal with a relieved but mystified Lauren, who called Kenzi _en route._

x

"What the hell am I gonna do, Trick?" Bo lamented. She reached for another, stronger drink, but Trick stopped her with a reproving expression. "Not in your condition."

"Oh, for God's sake!" she complained. "One drink isn't gonna hurt!"

"_That_ one might. Besides, you need all your wits about you - especially now."

There came a sharp rap at the front door. Bo crouched defensively; Trick motioned her to be still and edged cautiously to the door. "Who comes without?"

_"Without what?"_ asked a chirpy voice from…well, from without. Bo sagged in relief. "It's Kenzi. Let her in, Trick."

"Who _else_ comes without?" Trick inquired, still not opening up. "I _was_ born at night, but it surely wasn't _last_ night."

_"It is I, Trick,"_ Aiobheann called, _"and Lauren. We beg audience."_

"In the Ash's name?" demanded Trick.

_"In _mine, _old friend - the Ash holds back, for now. But we have less than an hour before his forces will be dispatched."_

Trick hesitated, and met Bo's eyes. She nodded.

Kenzi was the first in, rushing to Bo and hugging her. "Hey, girlfriend, what's this I hear about you takin' in a lodger, huh? One womb no longer available for rent, or so I'm told?"

Even in this crisis, Bo _had_ to laugh at that. "A _lodger?_ Kenzi, what the hell?"

"Well, think about it - room, bed an' board, meals laid on, temporary lease, forced eviction after a few months…sounds like a lodger to _me_."

Bo laughed with genuine mirth and hugged Kenzi tighter; she'd seldom been more pleased to see the world's sassiest 21st-century street urchin. "Only _you,_ Kenzi! Only _you_ would put it like that!"

She was a little more hesitant with Lauren. She couldn't forget that Lauren had started this, and said so, trying not to sound accusative. It made no difference; Lauren was crying again as she asked Bo's forgiveness. "I _had_ to tell them, Bo; they'd have found out anyway. I hoped they'd be more reasonable…"

"Oh, hell," Bo muttered, defeated, "c'mere." Lauren accepted her forgiving hug gratefully. "You refused. Thank you." She broke the hug, and glared at Aiobheann. "That brings us to _you._ Give me one good reason why I shouldn't gut you like a fish, you bitch!"

"Indeed, I have one: I intend _no harm to your child,_ Bo."

That was the last thing Bo had expected to hear. "Sorry? Weren't you the one who was calling for an _abortion?_ Didn't you just get through telling me this baby's practically the devil's daughter? So why should I -"

"You are _blood of my blood,_ Bo! So is your child! You have not yet heard my full tale, nor has Lauren!" Aiobheann almost screamed. "I intend her _no harm_, I swear it _on Aoife's life!_"

"Hey, wait a minute - how the Fae does anyone here know the sprog's not a dangler?" Kenzi wondered.

That brought Bo up short. She put a hand to her belly, and a look of mystified wonder suffused her features, as she suddenly realised she'd said 'daughter', not 'son or daughter'. "No…she's right. It _is_ a girl…I know it's a girl. I don't know how, and I don't want you to tell me it's impossible to know, Lauren…but I'm sure of it. It's a girl." Somehow she was as sure of that as she was of her own name.

"Bo, after all I've seen of the Fae, I'd believe almost anything, even with a lack of scientific evidence," Lauren shook her head. "Besides, statistics are in your favour; very, very few recorded incubus-succubus conceptions have produced incubi."

"The hell with statistics, Lauren…I _know. This baby is a girl._" She turned to Aiobheann. "And _you_, Granny, have some explaining to do."

"I am fully aware of the law, Bo," Aiobheann began, "but there is an alternative. If she is hidden, as you were, she may live. With you as her mother, and Damon - a man with _no_ desire for power - as her father, she may yet defy the curse of her kind and become decent, or at least controllable. You are unlike any other succubus there has ever been - indeed, unlike any _Fae_ there has ever been - and it is upon that fact I base my hope.

"As for Lauren: doubtless you have wondered why I did not expose your perfidy to the Ash?" Lauren nodded wordlessly. "First, my child," Aiobheann told her kindly, "I do not care for his attitude towards you; you are undeserving of such disdain." Lauren smiled in appreciation; Bo, in respect. "Second, your services will be necessary - to later present evidence to the Elders and to the Ash that the child _has_ been aborted, to aid in our deception. With your knowledge and resources, surely this is possible. You could, too, aid Bo with the birthing. We must _try…_"

"You'd defy the Elders?" Trick asked incredulously. "You'd defy the _Ash?_"

"To preserve my own great-grandchild," Aiobheann nodded with conviction, "yes, my old friend, I surely would."

"That wasn't what you were saying before," Bo pointed out suspiciously.

"A performance for the benefit of the guards," Aiobheann explained. "In truth, I once had aspirations towards the stage, once the tradition of forbidding women to act was overcome; I trust I was most convincing?"

"You sure as hell convinced _me_, yeah," Bo admitted.

"Had I named my true intent, they would have reported it instantly to the Ash. I apologise for causing you concern, but it was necessary." She looked grim. "The danger of which I spoke is no less real, of course - I did not exaggerate in the least. We must be most careful from this point on. Bo, I implore you to accept my word on this: the child will be _extremely dangerous,_ even _as_ a child_. _She must be handled with the utmost care _from the cradle_, if we are not to see a new tyranny unleashed upon the Fae. Further, she _must_ be concealed, lest _she_ be sought for breeding."

She turned to Trick. "If I might prevail upon your hospitality, old friend, a glass of your finest mead would be most welcome at this juncture."

Trick chuckled, "With a sprig of mint, milady?"

"You remembered!" she said delightedly. "And then, my friends, we must make plans - and, I fear, haste." Her expression turned deathly grim. "Soon, the wolves will be abroad."

x

"Ah, Dyson," the Ash greeted him cordially.

"You've kept me waiting for some time," Dyson pointed out, just barely this side of surly.

"Is it not an honour to await your Ash's pleasure?"

"I have responsibilities, milord," Dyson didn't quite snarl, "as do you. Neither of us has time to waste. If you would, state your business, before I go about mine."

"So much for being friendly and diplomatic," Lachlan lamented. "Oh, very well: you have a pack, do you not? You are their Alpha?"

Dyson nodded. "I haven't seen them in a while, but yes."

"Good," the Ash smiled. He stood, and the smile faded. "Assemble them."

"Why?"

"You dare question your Ash? You _are_ aware, aren't you, that I can strip you of your Alpha status within the pack? Your Beta will take over - and the task will be performed anyway."

"Very well," Dyson surrendered. "What task is that?"

"A hunt, Dyson, what else? A manhunt…or rather, a womanhunt."

Dyson frowned. "A woman? Who?"

"Bo."

His frown deepened. "I don't understand."

"She is with child, Dyson - with _Damon's_ child. I trust you are aware of the potential for disaster?"

"I am," he nodded slowly, remembering. "But…"

"No buts. She has refused the procedure. She fled. Bring her back, ideally unharmed…though I don't insist on that last," he smirked. But there was no humour in his voice as he finished, "Above all, find her_ before the Morrigan does!_"

x

Bo saw Aiobheann and Lauren were immersed in deep discussion regarding the falsified evidence and what they'd need (and Kenzi was eyeing the top shelf speculatively), and she took the opportunity to pull Trick aside. "Trick, there's something I have to know. Is…" she hesitated, "is it really as bad as Lauren and Aiobheann are saying? She's not even _born_ yet, and they're acting like it's the end of the world." She met his eyes. "Please tell me the truth."

He sighed. "I'd rather lie kindly, but it would do no good. I'm sorry, Bo, but I'm afraid it's no exaggeration. You've seen Aoife; you've seen what she's like. Unfortunately, her treatment at the hands of the Dark Fae is only _partly_ responsible for her state of mind. Her ancestry is primarily to blame - and her father wasn't especially powerful, at that; neither, if truth be told, is Aiobheann, at least as succubi go. But _you -_ and _Damon_…well, that's a very different and much larger kettle of fish." He gazed soberly at her. "You can seduce people by touching them and concentrating, yes?"

"Yeah, so?" she wondered.

"Imagine being able to do the same thing _from a distance_ - if all you needed was to _look_ at someone in the right way. Imagine being able to enthral someone simply by taking their chi and _willing_ them to serve you. _That_ is what your daughter will be capable of - that, and much more. That's leaving aside the question of her literally insatiable sex drive, of course…"

"Yeah, I gotta admit, that's scary," Bo confessed. "But if we bring her up right," she attempted, "maybe -"

"Nature versus nurture, you mean?" Trick shook his head. "I've heard the theory, Bo. But I doubt it applies to Fae." He sighed again. "It would be best if…well, you know how it would be best."

"I can't. I just _can't_. Trick, I've killed, far too often; but anyone I killed with intent _deserved_ it, or at the very least they weren't innocent. _My baby is._" She placed a hand on her belly again, and Trick's heart went out to her. "We have to try. _I_ have to try. I owe her that."

"We'd better start working out how to make it happen, then," Trick declared, and raised his voice. "It's time to plan!"

x

"I've had an idea," Bo told them. "Aoife and Lou Ann hid me for twenty-eight years. So why can't we do the same again?"

"A new set of earrings," Lauren divined her meaning, "and a new Backwards Blessing! Of course, yes! Surely we could find, um, someone to cast a geas, too?" she added meaningfully; she still wasn't entirely sure about Aiobheann and didn't dare admit in front of her that Lou Ann was still alive.

"We'd need the dude who made 'em in the first place, and we don't even know who that is," Kenzi pointed out. "How do we find him?"

"I have an answer for that," Trick told them solemnly, and laid a certain set of instruments on the table before him. Kenzi gasped on seeing them, knowing what they were for.

So did Bo. "No! Trick, you can't -"

"I _must_; it's the quickest way."

"You are a Blood Sage," Aiobheann breathed, clearly recognising the implements, and then frowned ferociously. "We, the Elders, were not aware of this, Fitzpatrick! You saw fit not to inform us! _Why?_" she demanded.

"Oh, it gets worse," he told her flatly. "It's as well you're sitting down…for _I am the Blood King_."

She went so pale Lauren was concerned she was in the initial stages of heart failure. Then, to everyone's surprise, she tottered to her feet…then fell to her knees.

"My lord," she breathed reverently. "Returned to us, after so long…"

"Oh, get up," he scowled, "I never _could_ be doing with all the bowing and scraping, even back then! Get _up,_ I say! If I am your king, then I command it!"

She scrambled to obey, bowed deeply nonetheless, and snapped to the others, "You will show proper obeisance to our true liege lord - including _you_, Bo!"

"The _hell_ I will," Bo retorted, more than a little stunned, then managed, "The Blood King? The one who created _La Shoshain_, and all the Fae laws and stuff? _That_ Blood King?" She shook her head. "Holy crap!"

"Trick, you dark horse, you," Kenzi murmured, amazed. "Talk about big bad secrets, huh?"

It seemed only fitting that this was the point at which a tremendous _BOOM_ was heard from the front door, as it was struck either by some vast weight or by some formidable force.

Or, in this case, both.

It happened again. "Uh…what the hell is _that?_" Kenzi quavered. "Is it as friendly as it doesn't sound?"

"Oh, come now, Kenzi," Trick teased, managing a chuckle, "who else could it possibly be?"

"Is it -?" Bo asked hopefully.

"Of course it is. Still, tradition must be respected…who comes without?" Trick called.

_("Without _what?_" Kenzi couldn't resist quipping again, whispering; Bo pinched her.)_

A tremendous booming voice answered:

_"IT IS I, DAMON! I GIVE YOU FAIR WARNING, FITZPATRICK McCORRIGAN: THIS DOOR SHALL NOT STAND AGAINST ME - NOR SHALL ANY WHO SEEK TO KEEP ME FROM HER!"_

Trick didn't even try to argue; he unlocked the door - and barely got out of the way in time as the man-mountain that was Damon ploughed through the doorway. He literally swept Bo off her feet, yet held her as if she were the finest, most delicate china. _Always so gentle…_she thought. "My heart…'tis true, then, what I have heard? You are with child - _my_ child?"

"_Our_ child, Damon," she whispered, happy beyond measure to see him again. Then she wondered, "Hey, how do _you_ know? Was word passed over the jungle drums, or smoke signals?"

He laughed merrily. "Neither, my queen; I was still tidying the last of my affairs within the world of men, when I heard the whisper of news. Naturally I elected to forego my return, at least until I could learn the truth for myself." He gently set her down, and his huge hand pressed so very softly against her belly. A look of wonder transformed the craggy face. "'tis true…I _feel_ her."

"You know she's, um, illegal?" Bo asked nervously, unsure of how he'd react - and she'd seen the intensity and power of his temper for herself. Hell, she'd been on the receiving end of it.

_God, the agony…and ecstasy…oh, stop it, Bo!_

"Aye, my love, I have only just learned of this law of which you speak, passed as it was whilst I dwelt in the forests of Nepal." Now a snarl twisted his mouth, but his words brought Bo nothing but relief: "The law be damned and thrice damned! In truth, I never desired a child, fearing as I did that I could not commit to such; but now that it be so, I shall _not_ permit her to come to harm!"

"What about the whole 'she'll be too dangerous' thing…?"

His face lost its snarl; he sighed. "I do not deny it will be a concern, Bo - any child of ours will surely be formidable. I will concede that the law is sensible in and of itself. But you and I are no ordinary parents, my sweet. No child - or anyone else - shall dominate _me_, and I have powers of my own, as do you. Surely we two might prevail against her nature - and certainly we cannot know unless we _try._ We cannot try unless she _lives._ We _shall_ try our utmost - and I say unto you here assembled: _Death to all who might wish it elsewise!_" he roared, his fangs emerging.

x

The preparations made - and Lauren standing by with a first aid kit and a worried expression - Trick began. They could see that every rune cost him pain, but he was nothing if not resolute. The writing took a surprisingly short time and relatively little blood; he put the pen down and gasped, "It is done…I hope." Lauren immediately set to work; he smiled in appreciation.

"Speak on, Bo," Damon inquired, "what is the plan?"

"Basically, we're gonna scoot outa here and find the craftsman who made my earrings." She explained quickly; he smiled in approval. "But we'd better hurry, 'cause according to Aiobheann, we'll shortly have wolves on our tail -"

"We _do_," Damon interrupted brusquely, his head snapping up suddenly. "They come! Bo, my love, you must away!"

"What? No way, we're going together!"

"No, my sweet, it cannot be. I must remain, to delay them. _You_ must escape." He stroked her cheek. "Dyson's full pack is abroad, and -"

_"Dyson?"_ she cried. "_Dyson's_ hunting us? What the _hell?_" she protested.

"It is the Ash's command," Aiobheann informed her sadly. "Knowing Lachlan, he doubtless threatened Dyson with the stripping of his Alpha status, did he not comply, and it would be done regardless." A distant howl only confirmed what they already knew:

Time was running out.

"Even I cannot outrun them, Bo. But _you_ might, if I delay them, and," he grinned without humour, "thin their numbers somewhat."

"No!" Bo cried. "No, you _can't!_ You can't kill them, they're only obeying orders!"

Damon faced her sombrely, as did Trick; the latter spoke first. "Bo, you need to understand what Damon will be up against…Dyson's pack is a sizeable one, all male save the alpha bitch and two younglings."

"And if I face them all, for all my strength and power they will swiftly overwhelm me if I do not fight to the best of my ability," Damon added. "That, I fear, means I must fight with _maximum force_. I _cannot_ spare their lives and still do what must be done." He shook his massive head sadly. "I wish 'twere elsewise, but it must be. I must strike swiftly, without mercy…for _they_ will surely show _me_ none."

"Then…if you _have_ to…" Bo couldn't stop the tears, "…not Dyson. Please, not Dyson._ Please…!_" she pleaded. She met his eyes, her own wet. "For me, Damon…"

"He still commands your heart, then," Damon noted, very quietly.

"Yes…" she sobbed.

He sighed deeply. "I can refuse you nothing, my sweet. So be it. But I wonder if I can count upon the camaraderie we once had; he is no fool, he will soon perceive that he is favoured - and he will take full advantage. Against such as me, he _would_ be a fool to do otherwise."

The full implications of Damon's words hit Bo. She murmured, "You're…not expecting to make it, are you…?"

He sighed again. "Dyson never welcomed any but the most skilled of warriors into his pack, the better to provide for and protect the young. He is an outstanding Alpha; he always was. They will, to a man, be fierce and unrelenting…and I am but one. Tiger or not, this is not an even match, I fear." He hugged her. "But you must not think on it, Bo. You must away, and I must defend you, as is my duty…and my right, by the most ancient law of all." The howl came again…closer. "Now go, my love," he commanded urgently, _"go!"_

She hugged him one last time, so tightly even _he_ gasped. Kenzi urged, "C'mon, Bo, let's book!"

She broke the hug and demanded, "What d'you mean, 'let's book'? Where the hell do you think _you're_ going?"

"Where _we're _going, Bo," Lauren told her determinedly. "We're not letting you go alone, that's stupid."

"Truly they are your friends, Bo," Damon smiled, "make the most of their aid and counsel, I beg you. The doctor," he smiled at Lauren, who quivered with desire despite her lack of sexual interest in men, "a healer living in pain…but no less resolute for it. And the sprite, so very human, so special…" his smile softened, "…such courage. One could do far worse for companions, Bo."

"I _so_ like this guy," Kenzi giggled, "but there's no way I can reach to kiss him!"

"Allow me," Damon offered, sweeping an arm around Kenzi's backside and lifting her off her feet, cradled easily in the crook of his arm; she squealed excitedly and kissed Damon soundly. Bo couldn't quite believe the expression of utter bliss on her face. Still less could she believe the same expression on _Lauren's_ face when he kissed her in turn.

"Keep her safe, I implore you, my ladies," he entreated them. "Now, for the last time, Bo, I beg you: _AWAY!_"

Bo finally bowed to the inevitable, and ducked into the tunnel, Kenzi and Lauren bringing up the rear. She didn't look back.

It was the last she ever saw of him.

x

As the pack arrived, Damon met them outside the Dal and raised a massive hand. "_Hold,_ wolves! You shall not pass!"

"I'm looking for Bo," Dyson declared. "I speak for the Ash."

"I care naught for such as _him,_ War Wolf," Damon growled dismissively. "What would you with milady Bo?"

"She has to be returned. The child must not be born." He looked pained. "Believe me, Stripe, I wish I weren't doing this…but if I didn't, someone else would. I must do my duty, old friend."

"As must I, Dyson. You professed to love her, once…how then can you do this to her, even in the Ash's name?"

"I _did_ love her…but then I went to the Norn, to save Bo's life. My love for her was the price I paid."

"You care nothing for her, then?"

"Not in the way you mean, no," he confessed.

"I _do_, Dyson. I care for her, and for the child. I shall defend them to the last breath in my body, to the last drop of my blood." He seemed to grow taller. "A tiger against a pack of wolves…let us see how well we are matched!"

"That's your final word?" Dyson asked, pleading with his eyes for Damon to back down, knowing perfectly well he never would.

"It is," Damon answered with serene, bedrock certainty.

"So be it," Dyson nodded. He snarled to his pack mates, _"Take him!"_

With that, carnage ensued.

It began with one wolf, with the reckless courage typical of the young, launching an attack, leaping into the air. His intention, apparently, was to distract Damon so as to allow the others to get in close. His foolish bravery didn't work; Damon saw him coming, dodged and smashed him aside. He flew into a wall and was dead, his spine and ribcage shattered into ruin, before he hit the ground.

Half of the pack shifted; the others did not, thus hedging their bets. Nor did Damon, at first; there were advantages to retaining two legs. His hands, however, now had the lethal claws of a tiger, as did his feet - he'd removed his boots while still in the Dal - and his mouth was now a gaping mass of equally lethal fangs. He was terrible to behold, but the wolves were not intimidated. They didn't dare let themselves be; Dyson had briefed them on what to expect from Damon. He had made it _very_ clear that casualties were certain, but none of his wolves had flinched.

For a while, Damon proved able to hold the snarling wolves at bay, lashing out whenever one came close enough, and his arms had enormous reach. One wolf limped away and collapsed, blood spraying from a severed artery; another had his skull ripped open and smashed by a devastating blow from Damon's huge, granite-hard fist. He was picking up wounds himself as wolf after wolf darted in and bit, worrying the prey as was their wont, but he was apparently unaffected…so far.

It would, Dyson knew, only be a matter of time. Of course, that was the whole point. Damon didn't expect to win, but then he didn't _have _to. All he had to do was delay them for long enough. If it weren't for the fact that he would surely pursue them if they broke off the attack to chase after Bo - and the advantage would shift to him if they did - he, Dyson, would have preferred to do just that. It was the option that would have spared both Damon and the maximum number of wolves. But he didn't dare.

Dyson led several of the strikes, of course; it was his right and responsibility, though it pained him greatly. He was almost wishing Damon _would_ shift.

And then he did; his human form simply _vanished,_ as he transformed with incredible speed. Instantly he was even _more_ lethal, a whirling, roaring striped behemoth, lashing out in fury and yet with deadly precision. One wolf lost two limbs; another was slashed in two, falling in a shower of blood. The smell of it was driving the wolves into a state of frenzy, but Damon himself was still in control, somehow.

_Then again, he has something to fight for._

One wolf tried a dirty but ostensibly sensible tactic, going for Damon's long, lashing tail. He roared in outrage and proved the inadvisability of the notion; instead of trying to pull away, as a true tiger might have, he went _with_ it and closed with the wolf before he could let go and retreat. The wolf died silently - he had no choice, as Damon's jaws closed with resistless force around his throat, crunching through cartilage and bone with equal ease.

But in so doing, he'd made himself briefly vulnerable. Dyson and his Beta immediately saw and took the opportunity; they pounced together and sank their teeth into their opponent. But Damon released the dead wolf and shifted back, and the fur Dyson had buried his teeth into was no longer there. He received a stunning blow to the head and nearly lost consciousness, knowing even as he flew through the air that Damon had pulled the punch (though it would still have killed an ordinary human or Fae), and why.

_Thank you, Bo._

His Beta howled as Damon struck out again, but miraculously escaped serious injury.

The outcome was still undecided, but Damon was, slowly, gaining the upper hand. Three junior wolves recognised it instinctively and attacked simultaneously. One somehow got through Damon's guard and severed an artery in his wrist, albeit receiving a severe wound in return. For a moment, he believed he might yet prevail, and in that fatally long moment he pictured himself with Bo and their beautiful babe.

His error might not have mattered overly much, but he'd reckoned without treachery. One wolf, Shawn Delaney, suddenly snarled, "Screw this!" and whipped out a knife. As a recovering but still stunned Dyson watched in horror and helpless rage, he threw it. The knife struck home in Damon's upper torso, and he screamed in agony; Dyson, in fury. Delaney's treachery cost him dearly, though; Damon, maddened by pain and anger, ploughed through the wolves surrounding him and grabbed Delaney one-handed by the throat, his fingers wrapping completely around the man's neck, gripping so hard the neck was utterly crushed. Delaney's head fell off in a shower of gore and hit the ground, followed by his body.

Followed by _Damon's_ body, as his legs abruptly refused to hold his huge weight. Dyson realised why instantly; he could smell the poison from across the alley. _"Hold!"_ he roared to his wolves as he somehow forced himself to his feet, _"Hold, I say!"_

They obeyed, drawing warily back, their eyes remaining fixed on Damon. But it was no ruse; Damon shifted back to human form, agony creasing his face as he slumped to the ground. Dyson was there in an instant, supporting him. One look at the knife wound told him there was no hope; the poison was lethal to shifters of all kinds, even one as strong as Damon.

"I'm sorry," Dyson rasped, "I didn't know he had that…using weapons on a hunt is against our code…"

"Be not concerned, Dyson," Damon gasped. "You could not have known. The whelp paid in full for his treachery, my friend."

"_I'd_ have killed him if you hadn't," Dyson snarled, unable to believe a member of _his_ pack had behaved in such a disgraceful way.

"And now, I am done, I fear," Damon breathed, blood running from his mouth as the poison did its work, wrecking blood vessels as it progressed through the body.

"When we catch Lauren, she'll treat you," Dyson attempted, trying to keep the despair out of his voice. "She's a good doctor…"

Damon shook his head. "No…I am beyond help." He coughed, spitting blood. "I ask but one final thing, my old friend. You know what it is."

Dyson nodded soberly, reluctantly. "You want me not to go after Bo."

"No, not that; I know you must. Send me on my way, I beg you, while I can still depart this life with dignity…" Dyson could clearly see he was losing his struggle with the rising agony; he nodded resolutely.

They locked hands in the Fae tradition. "You are not of my pack," Dyson told him, "but I will bury you as such with my own hands, I swear it. Safe journey, Stripe," he murmured, as he extended his claws and delivered a lethal blow across Damon's throat.

Damon died without a sound. Dyson wept unashamedly; though he'd known Damon only a short time in the old days, they'd formed a true, lasting bond, and had been feared throughout the land. He hadn't felt such grief since Stefan was sacrificed by their king.

Dyson howled stridently for him, and the pack followed suit, in tribute to their valiant opponent.

x

When they were done, Dyson rose to his feet, his eyes glowing with the fierce amber of his Wolf, and growled, murder in those same eyes, "If any of you curs are carrying weapons, you will surrender them, _now_, or you will answer to me as Delaney answered to Damon!"

None responded; he could smell no attempt at deception. _They_ had stayed honourable, at least. "Very well; the hunt begins." He spared Damon one last regretful glance and rapped on the Dal's door. "Trick, it's Dyson. In the Ash's name, I demand entry."

_"Sanctuary has been invoked, Dyson,"_ Trick bluffed, _"and so you know I can't let you in."_

"We both know Bo isn't there any longer, Trick," Dyson told him shrewdly. "There's no-one in there who _requires_ Sanctuary. Open up, old friend; you know what'll happen."

Trick did. He unlocked the door. As they entered, sniffing carefully, one wolf asked, "Dyson, shouldn't we be tracking them?"

"They'll have made their way into the tunnels," he pointed out. "It's easier to track them that way than to cover all the tunnel exits."

"Damon?" Trick asked very quietly, knowing the answer.

Dyson shook his head sadly. "He fought well. When the clean-up squad arrives, have them treat him with respect, Trick."

"It shall be so," Aiobheann promised, tears in her eyes. "He was a magnificent example of his kind…perhaps the last there shall ever be. He shall be treated with all the respect due a fallen, noble warrior, Dyson. On my blood honour, I swear it."

Dyson inclined his head. "Thank you, milady," he said. "And now, _the hunt is on!_"

They filed down the stairs and entered the tunnel, shifting as they did so.

x

By the time the fight had come to its bloody, tragic end, Bo and her friends had made their way for some miles down the tunnel they'd selected. There was little light, but Bo's night vision had always been good. She could only wonder how long Damon could hold the wolves back, and how many of them would be left by then.

"Hey, there's the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel!" Kenzi cried happily. Bo and Lauren could see she was right; the end of the tunnel was visible now, sloping slightly upwards.

It was still a hell of a way, though…and from the faint echoes in the tunnel, it seemed the wolves had started their pursuit.

All three were trying not to think of what that meant for Damon.

_They'll catch us,_ Lauren thought apprehensively. _In a long list of things too stupid for anyone as intelligent as me to have done, this has _got_ to be the _stupidest._ There's no _way_ we can outrun them, especially when we come out into the open._

_ So we'll have to out_smart_ them…_

The plan sprang almost unbidden into her mind. By the time they reached the end of the tunnel, the details were worked out. She glanced back and strained her ears for snuffling sounds; the wolves were still a considerable distance away. She calculated, almost coldly, if they had time, and concluded that they did.

"Bo," Lauren called, as the former emerged from the tunnel and started running through the forest into which it emerged, "wait! I have an idea!"

"No time for ideas, let's _go!_" Bo returned.

A flash of uncharacteristic anger blazed through Lauren's mind. _Bo, I love you dearly, but you can be so fucking _stubborn_ at times!_

_ "Dammit, Bo, WAIT! Just THINK, for _once_ in your life!"_ she almost screamed.

Bo stopped so suddenly she nearly tripped. She stared at Lauren, unsure whether to be curious or angry. The curiosity won…barely. "What the hell?"

"Bo," Lauren panted, "this - is - _insane!_ These are _wolves_ chasing us! They have _all_ the advantages in a chase - speed, stamina, endurance! They don't even have to chase us at full speed; they'll still be going strong _days_ after we've collapsed from exhaustion, hunger or thirst! Unless we change the situation somehow, they _will_ catch us! We have to be _smarter_ than that!"

"Science girl's makin' sense, Bo," Kenzi agreed, gasping for breath. "So what do we do?"

"You're _not_ suggesting we stand and fight," Bo doubted, and nearly laughed at Lauren's old-fashioned look.

"Bo, how do wolves track their prey?"

"By scent, duh," Bo answered, rolling her eyes.

"And whose scent are they tracking?"

"They're tracking ours, duh again!"

"_No -_ they're tracking _yours_. So what would happen if they had _more than one trail to follow?_"

"Oh, I get where she's goin'," Kenzi comprehended, "we each take somethin' you're wearin' an' we -"

"- split up," Bo finished hollowly. "No."

"Bo, we're only here to buy you time! This is the only way we can do it! Take off…let's see…your blouse and bra. You'll need your outer clothes, it's freezing out here."

"Check _you_ out," Bo marvelled, "new, assertive Lauren. I kinda like it," she grinned, complying.

"You should rub them under your arms," Lauren instructed, "to impregnate them thoroughly with your sweat; the stronger the scent, the more convincing it'll be."

"Ew," Kenzi squicked, but Bo obeyed.

"And between your legs," Lauren added, surprising them.

"You gotta be kidding me."

"That'll make the scent sexual…and these are all _male_ wolves tracking us," Lauren pointed out.

"What about the alpha bitch?" Bo wondered. "_She_ won't fall for that."

"Oh, we needn't worry about her," Lauren dismissed the concern casually. At Bo's frown, she smiled. "She broke her leg yesterday, and I only set it eighteen hours ago."

"Oh."

"The girls are visiting a relative in Canada, she told me - which leaves only males. They won't be able to resist a female, sexual scent, Bo, especially when they're already excited by the hunt. They might even lose control, which will delay Dyson; he'll have to restore discipline. But every second counts - including," she added exasperatedly, "every second I'm standing here explaining this to you! _Do_ it already!"

"Oh, I stand corrected: I _love_ this new Lauren!" Bo enthused, and did as Lauren suggested, surprised to find she was more than a little aroused, though whether by the tension she was under or Lauren's newfound assertiveness she wasn't sure. She quipped to Kenzi, "Which piece - blouse or bra?"

_"Eeew!"_

"This from the girl who's survived Basilisk poisoning, nearly being eaten by Baba Yaga and washing my blood-stained panties," Bo chuckled.

"Was that from your period?" Lauren inquired, a little nosily.

"No. Well, yeah, actually, but not just that. I'd been in a fight - long story."

In the end, Kenzi took the blouse. Lauren took a moment to note the bra was new, and very pretty. It was pink, which for Bo was something of a departure…

_Less lusting, more escaping, Lauren,_ she could almost hear Bo admonishing her.

"There's something else: even if they catch you, there'll only be a third of them. That might be enough to even the odds, given your combat prowess, Bo. You might actually escape."

"Have I told you lately how beautiful and brilliant I think you are?"

"Not lately, no," Lauren quipped.

"When this is over, I am _so_ fucking you senseless. I hope you realise that, you sexy, stroppy bitch. I'm gonna _rape_ you."

"Promises, promises," Lauren chuckled saucily.

"What do we do when they catch us, though?" Kenzi asked.

"Delay them as long as we can," Lauren answered.

"No!" Bo objected. "Lauren, when they catch up to you, you _surrender!_ Kenzi's one thing, but you're a lover, not a fighter! I don't want you getting yourself killed for me!"

"This is one time the Ash will actually come in handy - they _can't_ hurt me, Bo, they wouldn't _dare!_"

"Are you sure?" Bo asked gently. "You're a rebel now, you know."

"I'm still his," Lauren answered flatly. "Anyway: enough of this. Bo, you should go off-track, to the left; Kenzi, right; I'll keep on the path. Let's go!"

"Wait," Bo blurted, catching each woman's hand. "Some things have to be said…I can't tell you how much I appreciate what you're doing for me…for _us._"

"We know, Bo," Kenzi told her quietly. "Some things _don't_ need to be said."

They hugged, wished each other luck and, a hundred yards further on, split up.

x

Dyson's pack exploded from the tunnel, in total silence. All knew better than to announce themselves on a hunt - and woe betide the overexcited youngster who forgot. Dyson took the lead, snuffling along the scent trail -

- Which suddenly split. He snarled in frustration and shifted, yelling, "Hold!"

His Beta, Andrew McCorrigan, a distant relative of Trick's, also transformed. "They've split up?" he intuited. He was a worthy Beta, Dyson thought approvingly.

"Lauren's idea, no doubt," Dyson observed, with not a little admiration for her human ingenuity. He could tell from the scents what their quarry had done; it was impossible to tell which of the (delicious) trails the true one was. One _was_ a little stronger, but not enough for him to be _certain_ it was the right one. If it wasn't and they all followed it, Bo might escape…and for all that he didn't really _want_ to catch her, he had his duty. Doing less than his best would insult Damon's memory, and render his sacrifice meaningless. Dyson couldn't do that to him. He deserved better.

There was no choice. _You win, Lauren_. "We split up," Dyson ordered. "You guys -"

"No," Simon McCandless objected, "we should follow the strongest trail! We only need the succubus!"

Dyson's reaction to this was entirely honest in its reasoning. It was, of course, vital he maintain pack discipline; indeed, as Alpha it was his responsibility. Insubordination and dissension such as this could _not_ be tolerated.

Of course, the fact that it would delay them for precious seconds, and thus increase Bo's chances of escape, was entirely incidental.

He snarled, whirled on the upstart cub who'd dared question him and proceeded to open up a medium-sized can o' whoop-ass (no need for more than that and no time anyway) on McCandless. When it was over, and McCandless had the sense to submit, howling, he was bleeding from six places and bruised in more. "_I_ am Alpha here," Dyson barked fiercely. "The next one who questions me will _never do so again!_"

The entire pack showed him the proper respect, none meeting his eyes, all hackles down. _Good. Now we return to the hunt._

He split the pack evenly into three, his own group taking the trail he judged to be the strongest. _He had a point _there_, at least…which is the only reason I didn't do more._ The two groups he'd selected shifted and proceeded on their way; he was about to signal his own group to do the same when Andrew touched his arm and said quietly, "A word of advice, Dyson -"

Dyson turned and snarled, but Andrew held his ground, finishing, _"- from your Beta."_ He very carefully did _not_ meet Dyson's eyes until Dyson growled assent. "The Alpha does not rule the pack purely by force."

That calmed Dyson more than anything else he might have said. He was absolutely right, Dyson knew. He was definitely a worthy Beta; should anything happen to Dyson, Andrew should and would take over, and Dyson was certain he'd do a good job. In his absence, the pack was in good hands with Andrew. "True," he conceded. "He rules with the support of his Beta." He deliberately moved closer to Andrew, testing him, but again Andrew held his ground; Dyson approved. "Do I have that?"

"You do," Andrew responded without the slightest hesitation. "Our pack has only prospered under your leadership. You've never steered us wrong before."

"And I won't now, my friend," Dyson promised. They crossed arms, warrior to warrior, brother to brother. "Let's find her."

x

It wasn't long, unfortunately, before one group ran Lauren down…because she'd been careless and tripped, spraining her ankle. She sobbed with the pain, but struggled on regardless.

From a distance, Mark Foster watched her, and admired her pluck. It didn't stop him signalling to the others by raising his head and jerking it towards the hapless doctor; they in turn signalled wordless agreement and quickened their pace. Two minutes later, Lauren was surrounded.

"Don't come any closer," she ordered them, trying desperately to show no fear and failing utterly, "I speak for the Ash." She frantically dug the necklace out and showed it to them as they transformed. None seemed impressed. The group's leader, a young but capable man she recognised as Curt Morgan, Dyson's Gamma, shook his head. "Nice try, Doctor, but we were _sent_ by the Ash. You may consider yourself our prisoner."

A couple of the wolves leered at her, and she couldn't help but notice - as they were, of course, entirely naked - they were excited, either by her female scent or Bo's, or more likely both. She couldn't conceal the quaver in her voice as she insisted, "He surely wants me returned unharmed…I am, after all," she added bitterly, "his _property._"

One closed with her and made as if to grab her breast, enjoying her obvious dread as to his equally obvious intentions, but Curt snapped harshly, "No! She's right - the succubus is the true target. By the Alpha's command, _I_ am in charge here! Leave her be, I say!"

The man growled, but dropped his hand and backed away. Lauren couldn't help but admire Curt's resolve; he was surely not much older than she, and he was definitely the youngest of them. Clearly Dyson chose his subordinates wisely. She sent him a wordless thank-you with her eyes. He nodded, and said, "You must have something that smells of our prey. Hand it over, please," he requested politely, but with steel in his voice. She knew she had no choice; she was surrounded and couldn't run any further anyway.

_I'm sorry, Bo. I tried. It was pretty much an act of desperation anyway…_

She surrendered the bra; he checked it - unable to conceal his enjoyment of the scent - and nodded again, handing it to a fellow. "Take her and that back with you, Mark; be careful of her ankle," he added, with surprising compassion. "The rest of you, follow me - we'll rendezvous with Dyson," he decided.

x

Kenzi, sadly, fared even less well, albeit through sheer bad luck rather than carelessness. She stepped on a twig that snapped with a sound she barely heard. Unfortunately, one of her pursuers had remarkable hearing even by wolf standards, and picked it up as the wind changed and carried the faint sound to his sharp lupine ears. Shortly the entire group was on the trail. Kenzi heard them and somehow quickened her already fleet pace, but they soon had her cornered.

"Well, well, well," the leader remarked, "what have we here? A little human, no less, who smells of our quarry? Very nice, too," he mocked; his fellows laughed.

"Yeah, you got me, I surrender," she conceded. "I guess this'll earn you points with ol' Dyson, huh? You'll move up a bit in the pack, yeah?"

"Who's Dyson?" the man frowned.

Kenzi's heart dropped on hearing that. If they didn't know Dyson, they weren't part of his pack. And if they weren't part of Dyson's pack, then…

_ Oh, no. Dear God, no…c'mon, even _I'm_ not _that_ unlucky…!_

"Um…y - you're not Light Fae, are you…?" she quavered, already knowing the answer.

"Hardly," he chuckled maliciously, "we serve the Morrigan."

_Oops. Guess I _am_ that unlucky._

"Right, okay, yeah. Hey, you know that whole 'I surrender' thing? Totally my bad, gotta run. Bye!"

She somehow managed to dash through them and break for the forest, running faster than she ever had in her entire life, sheer fright lending her phenomenal speed by human standards. She'd have been safe(ish) with Dyson's wolves, but God only knew what _these_ creeps would do to her. She hadn't been this scared since she belted Baba Yaga over the head with her own frying pan.

But her pursuers were far from human. They had her down, screaming in terror, in less than fifty yards, and she did well to get even that far.

x

Once the human was secured, Tom McBride wasted no time using the phone carried in a pouch around his neck. As the new Alpha, he was eager to prove himself; hopefully this would go some way towards achieving that goal.

_"What?"_ the Morrigan inquired imperiously, sounding impatient.

"Milady, this is Tom McBride - you sent us after the succubus."

_"Do you have her?"_ she demanded.

"Um, no, milady," he confessed uneasily, knowing all too well her lack of patience with failure, "but we _do_ have one of her friends - the little dark-haired human."

"Hey, mangy, don't call me little!" Kenzi braved indignantly; the wolves laughed.

_"Oh! That's excellent!"_ the Morrigan cried delightedly, to McBride's considerable surprise. _"Not Bo, but certainly the next best thing! Well _done,_ Tom! Bring her to me, entirely unharmed…for now,"_ she chuckled sadistically, and hung up, laughing.

"You heard milady Morrigan," McBride roared triumphantly, "let's go! Bring her!"

"What about the succubus?" a subordinate protested.

"You bloody idiot," another cursed, cuffing him. "We've got her little friend, ain't we? She's all we need, ain't she?"

Kenzi struggled valiantly in the grip of two wolves, but she really was wasting her time.

_Sorry, Bo. I did my best._

x

The Morrigan was so pleased with their efforts she actually kissed each wolf (in their _human_ forms; even the Morrigan had her limits in taste!); each wriggled like a puppy in pleasure at this unprecedented privilege. She treated McBride to a full-on French kiss, and didn't object when one hand stole down to her firm, shapely rear.

"Excellent work," she praised them. "It's so good to have _competent_ trackers working for me. The _last_ lot…" she shook her head. "Take the rest of the week off, boys, and indulge yourselves thoroughly, on my tab." She smiled broadly. "That's an order."

The pack howled in gleeful assent, and hurried to obey, heading for a Dark Fae fleshpot they knew well. She caught McBride's hand, though. "A word with you first, Tom," she requested.

_Uh-oh,_ he thought in dread,_ I went too far._ She seemed to confirm this by saying mildly, "I seem to recall a hand on my ass I didn't specifically invite. You would lay hands on your Morrigan?" she inquired, her voice rising slightly with that last.

He hesitated, unsure of what to do. If he denied it he was lying to the Morrigan - _to her face_ - yet if he admitted it and backed down, she would surely see that as weakness and probably order his replacement as Alpha. Thankfully she then resolved his unspoken dilemma: "But then, I _like_ a young man with daring," she purred softly, to his surprise (again). "Come to my office in an hour. We'll…discuss the matter."

He bowed, carefully hiding his relief (and excitement at the prospect; a kiss was one thing, but the pack would never believe _this!_), and left. She turned to Kenzi, who for all her courage was trembling.

"Oh, you needn't be afraid, little one," she soothed Kenzi, who didn't believe a word of it, "there's nothing to be scared of…_yet,_" she laughed.

_Please, God, let me die quickly,_ Kenzi prayed. The Morrigan clearly read her thoughts in her face, and gave Kenzi a smile that wouldn't have been out of place on the face of one of her wolves. "Not a chance, honey. God has no jurisdiction over _me._"

x

As for Bo, she'd tired of running. She'd done way too much of that in her life. She'd spotted a dense area of bush where, she thought, she might be able to lay some sort of trap. If she could only take out the wolves with Dyson, surely she could talk him round…or, failing that, take him out, too.

She had no idea how she knew Dyson was on her tail, but she was nonetheless certain. _Wish I knew where the hell all these insights come from,_ she mused.

x

Her idea was sound on the face of it, but she hadn't counted on Curt's group catching Lauren so quickly and returning to Dyson's group with equal swiftness. He was well pleased at his junior's performance, given his recent elevation in the pack to the rank of Gamma, and made very sure to tell him so before the pack. The main reason he'd assigned Curt to lead his group was to see how he'd handle the responsibility, as he hadn't previously been tested in that regard. There was little risk of failure _per se_, as Dyson knew the more experienced wolves would back him up if need be, but the lad had done him proud.

He suspected he knew what Bo would now do, and why…and that her strategy was based on his only having half as many wolves at his disposal as he now had.

_Check and mate, I think, Bo._

Of course, he was nowhere near as certain of what he was going to do when he _did_ catch her.

x

Nor was Bo, really. Even with all that was at stake, she _couldn't_ bring herself to kill them. Any trap would have to be nonlethal - snares, maybe.

She caught herself wondering how many Damon had taken with him, and suddenly she couldn't stop the tears. He had to be dead, she knew.

He'd never see his little girl…she would never know him…

She was still crying when Dyson's pack arrived. He'd pushed them to a breakneck pace, so much so that they were strung out over several hundred yards, the older wolves bringing up the rear and the younger ones leading - except Dyson, who as Alpha _had_ to maintain the lead even if it killed him.

Bo's head snapped up from her grief, and she reached for a sturdy branch, but she could see it was useless; there were too many of them, and she could see more coming in the distance. She didn't know how he'd managed that, but it didn't really matter. Fighting would only get her hurt, which she couldn't risk for Mary's sake.

She wasn't sure when she'd decided on the name, but still. _Her name is Mary._

"You can't escape, Bo," Dyson called, "you know that."

"Since when do I let _you_ tell me what to do? If I want to run, I'll damn well run! If I want to use _this_ -" she brandished the branch she'd torn from the tree, "to open up a king-size can o' whoop-ass on _your_ ass, I _will!_"

"It's _pointless_, Bo!" he roared.

"Would _you_ quit?" she demanded.

He somehow chuckled. "Probably not," he admitted. He sobered. "Bo, I thought you should hear it from me…Damon is dead."

"I know," she murmured, barely holding back more tears, "from the fact that you're even here. Did…did he…?"

"He fought well," Dyson told her gently. "He killed six of mine, and wounded more. He might have done even better, if one hadn't _disobeyed our code,_" he snarled, "and carried a knife! Oh, he's dead, Damon had time to pay the Ferryman's Fee - and _I_ would've killed that damn whelp if he hadn't! But…the blade was poisoned." He sighed. "I sent him on his way. It was his last request," he explained, and her look of anger melted into sorrow. "He met his end as a warrior should, with dignity. It was the last thing I could do for an old friend."

To her surprise, a tear was rolling down Dyson's cheek. She could never have put into words how badly she wanted to wipe it away and hug him. "You're not the only one to lose today, Bo. So let it end, here," he entreated.

"I _can't_," she cried. "Dyson, they'll _kill_ her!"

"Bo, I lived through that time; we called it The Nadir. We _can't_ return to those times, not now. If one such child is allowed to live and the fact becomes known," she could've sworn he'd placed a very faint emphasis on that, "there will be others. Succubi will be hunted again. You yourself will never be allowed rest. The eventual result will surely be war. It's best for everyone, even the humans, and _including_ you."

"How is it best for _Mary?_" Bo sobbed.

"Enough of this, Dyson!" a wolf called. "We have her, let's take her back! We have our orders!"

He should have known better after McCandless' misbehaviour; Dyson immediately whirled on him, gripped him by the throat - his now-clawed hand drawing blood - and barked, "And _you_ have _yours,_ from _ME!_ We _hold,_ until _I_ say so!"

The errant wolf was saved by the bell; a junior wolf suddenly caught a scent on the wind and his head jerked up. "Dyson!" he called, "Someone's coming! One of ours - and _I smell blood!_"

_"Help,"_ a voice rasped roughly, coming from a stumbling figure some distance away. Dyson recognised it; the arrival was Dalton, who'd been leading the group chasing one of the decoys. He was limping badly and was covered in blood. One arm appeared to be broken. "Dalton? What the hell happened?"

"We were after the dark-haired girl…Kenzi…but we were jumped. Dark Fae wolves…we had no chance…"

"Were they Tom McBride's pack? You should have been able to deal with _them,_" Dyson remarked scornfully, releasing his subordinate and hurrying to Dalton, assessing his wounds rapidly. "He's a new, inexperienced Alpha, and the others are of no account as wolves go."

"They are when they use guns," Dalton gasped. Every wolf snarled viciously on hearing that. "I'm the only one left…they picked up Kenzi's trail, went after her…we were close, so they've probably got her by now…"

Bo heard, and dropped the branch in shock.

"Understood," Dyson replied gently. "I'm sure you all did your best. Curt, Warren: take him back. Take my phone," he ordered, removing the pouch from around his neck, "and call the Ash for help." They nodded; Curt took the phone and pouch, and both departed, helping Dalton. They were soon lost in the twilight.

"Dyson," Bo offered, "I'll make you a deal."

"I thought you might," he nodded. "You'll surrender yourself if I help you get Kenzi back."

"Am I _really_ that predictable?" Bo wondered wryly.

"No, just decent and loyal to your friends," he observed. "But it won't be easy; the Morrigan's home, which is where they've likely taken her, is a fortress -"

At that point, Bo's phone rang. Caller ID said 'Kenzi', but she doubted it was her. "Hello?"

Sure enough, a sensuous voice answered: _"Hello, Bo."_

"If you hurt her, you bitch," Bo yelled, "I swear -"

_"Oh, please, I know the script,"_ the Morrigan interrupted dismissively. _"Not that I don't take you seriously, but I have a full house against your busted flush. You know _my_ part of the script, I'm sure. Come alone, unarmed, no tricks, by - oh, let's say dawn. Otherwise, Kenzi will…suffer,"_ she warned, lingering silkily over the word. _"Oh, she won't die…she'll just wish she could."_

"Please," Bo tried a different tack, "please don't hurt her. I…I'll come anyway. At least I know," she acknowledged ironically, "_you_ don't want to kill my baby."

_"After all the trouble and expense I went to in order to make it happen, all the risks I've taken? Of course not, Bo; you'll _both_ be well-treated, I promise."_

The sick part of it, Bo knew, was that she meant every word.

_"Just one question: you wouldn't happen to know if it's a boy or a girl, would you? Either one would be welcome, but…"_

"It's a girl."

_"Oh, good, that's the ideal outcome. See you soon, Bo."_

She hung up. Bo stared at Dyson. He stared back.

"So now what?" he asked.

"So, I'm going to the Morrigan…and _you_ are coming with me. How stupid does she think I _am_, huh? There's no way in _hell_ I'm going alone, _or_ unarmed!"

"That's my Bo," he chuckled. "But how can _I_ help? More to the point, why should I?"

"In other words, what do I have to offer?"

"Yes."

She sighed. "I'll surrender…to Aiobheann." At his look of puzzlement, she dropped her voice and explained, "We've got a plan to hide her, the same way _I_ was hidden. Are you in?"

"Bo what makes you think I _want_ your baby dead?" he asked, pained. "Of course I'm in. I told the Ash I'd bring you back; I said nothing about hurting your baby." She smiled gratefully. "Now, what's your plan for rescuing Kenzi?"

"Well, you're a cop, aren't you? Can you get us some guns? _Big_ guns?" she added.

She didn't understand, at the time, the huge and, well, _wolfish_ grin he was sporting…

x

Half an hour later, after he'd sent the others back to the Ash - with orders to deliver a report that would at least protect _them_ from his potential wrath - he and Bo arrived outside what appeared to be a bunker of some kind. "This is kind of out of the way for a police arsenal, isn't it?"

"They're not police," he grinned. "This is the HQ of the Wolves of Armageddon."

"What are they, a survivalist group?" Bo guessed. They probably knew she and Dyson were there; she could see a surveillance camera.

"Yes, they are, in a way…but they're actually wolves. Light Fae," he added. "You might recognise the Alpha, sort of."

"What does _that_ mean?" she asked, irritated at all this damn mystery. His shit-eating grin didn't help her mood. He made as if to pound on the steel door - but it opened before he could and a snarling nightmare of fur and fangs exploded out of it.

He shifted himself, and the two wolves rolled over and over, nipping, kicking, scratching, until one bit the other's ear; the wounded wolf yelped in submission, and they both shifted back. To Bo's surprise, it was Dyson who'd submitted…and a naked woman was now standing triumphantly over him, laughing. "You always _did_ fall for that, sucker!"

She was even taller than Dyson, strongly built, and with a magnificent mane of mahogany red hair that cascaded down her back, a russet waterfall. She was utterly gorgeous, and somehow familiar.

Bo was instantly jealous, though she hated herself for feeling it.

"Relax, doll," the amazon laughed, guessing her thoughts, "if you want my no-good mangy brother, you're welcome to him!"

"Bo," Dyson rasped, hauling himself to his feet, "this is Dione, my sister -"

"_Elder_ sister!" she snapped, cuffing him. "He _always_ forgets that part!"

"- and Alpha of the Wolves of Armageddon," he went on, bowing slightly in a sort of respectful mockery.

"Alpha _bitch_, an' don't you forget it!" she growled proudly.

"As if I could," he grinned, hugging her fiercely; she tousled his hair with equally obvious affection. "Dione, this is Bo."

"I've heard of her," Dione nodded, appraising Bo with keen interest, "the succubus who told Light _and _Dark Fae what to go do with 'emselves. 'Bout time _someone_ did," she added scornfully. "So, how ya doin', Bo?"

"I've been better," Bo admitted.

Dione abruptly stopped short, sniffing at her, her eyes briefly flashing the amber of her Wolf. "Hey, you know you've got a kid on the way? Smells like a girl," she noted.

Bo looked askance at Dyson. "You guys can _tell_ that?"

"Wolves have one of the sharpest noses Nature ever designed, Bo," he nodded.

"You're a mom-to-be…well, that's different. Welcome, sister," Dione greeted her warmly, offering an arm. Bo crossed it, knowing the custom. "C'mon in and meet the pack."

x

"Yes?" the Morrigan responded to the quiet, respectful knock. McBride entered her office and bowed; she smiled, pleased at the respect he was showing. Alphas new to their post could be uppity at times, but this one, young as he was, seemed to know better. Clearly he wasn't as arrogant as Harding had been. "You asked to see me, milady," McBride said, just a touch nervously.

She stood in a fluid, elegant motion. "I did indeed. Come here, Tom," she instructed him, slinking towards the couch. She sat, and patted the couch; he did as she bade him. "Now then…do you know specifically _why_ I invited you here?"

_Trap,_ his mind screamed at him, _be careful!_

"Well, I…" he began, but he caught her scent and decided to be bold. She smelled…interested. "I was under the impression you wanted an - intimate - discussion, milady."

"Oh, I see," she smiled, impressed by his boldness but concealing it. _So far, so good,_ he thought. "The thing is, I'm concerned that your laying hands on me uninvited might set a bad example for your pack, and discipline is _so_ important, don't you agree?"

"Of course, milady," he nodded, unsure of where she was going. "Without discipline, a pack tears itself apart."

"And who creates, enforces and maintains that discipline?"

"The Alpha, of course," he acknowledged.

"Of course," she nodded. "Oh, don't get me wrong; I wasn't offended in the least. Surprised, perhaps, but after so many centuries I _appreciate_ surprises…especially pleasant ones. On the other hand, I don't want your pack thinking they can take liberties - especially not with _me_," she finished sternly. "Are we clear?"

"Absolutely, milady," he nodded, fighting to keep his voice steady.

"Nor do I want _you_ thinking that way. It must _never_ happen again, Tom. Is _that_ clear?" He nodded again, wondering now if he was going to leave her office alive.

"This is strictly a one-off," she warned him.

"Um…_what_ is, milady?" he attempted.

"This," she purred, and kissed him deeply, fondling him as she did so and placing one of his hands on her left breast. When he came up for air, gasping, she murmured, "I think we'll have that…intimate…discussion now. Let's see if you're man enough to lead your pack…by seeing how well you cope with _me_."

"I think I can cope," he growled boldly, teasing her nipple; she laughed, delighted.

"We'll see, Tom."

They did.

As it turned out, she was well pleased over the next several hours.

She dismissed him with a farewell French kiss and strict instructions not to supply more than the basic facts to his pack, and to order them to keep it to themselves. It was stupid to expect him to tell them _nothing_, of course; he was a _man_, after all - a certain amount of bragging was only to be expected. But it would cement his new position as Alpha by earning their respect, i.e. 'Whoa, our Alpha's had the _Morrigan!_'…and thus place him in her debt. There were many ways to ensure loyalty beyond simple fear and intimidation, and Evony Florette Marquis was well versed in all of them.

_Ooh, he wasn't bad at all, actually…that might _not _be a one-off…I'd never have let that beast Harding anywhere _near_ me, but _this_ boy…mmm…_

_Now,_ she thought, still revelling in the pleasure Tom had afforded her, _for little Kenzi…_

x

"I've got twelve cubs myself," Dione told Bo conversationally as they headed deeper into the bunker (for such it was); every wolf they met greeted Dione with deference. "It's never easy, but it's worth it, sister, believe me."

"I've gotta ask before I explode from curiosity," Bo said, "What the hell _is_ this? It looks like a bomb shelter or something."

"Dead on, doll," Dione confirmed. "See, my pappy, rest his soul, wasn't all that confident that the humans could hold their shit together, you know? Especially after they came up with those damn nuke things," she added. "So he started plannin' ahead. He started stockpilin' stuff - food, medicine, weapons, books - and he an' his pack, _my_ pack now, got together an' built this place. Look closely at the walls," she directed, "see the sparklin' in the concrete?" Bo nodded. "That's fairy dust. Fifteen tons of the fuckin' stuff went into this joint, an' it costs nearly a thousand bucks a pound." She gazed at Bo. "So you can see we're kinda serious, yeah?"

"Yeah," Bo nodded, a little stunned. The place must've cost _millions_. Then Dione's words registered, and she ventured: "Fairy dust?"

"Protection against both magical and conventional weapons, Bo," Dyson elaborated. "It's very difficult to kill an elf, a fairy or a sprite. All three shed fairy dust; it's a powerful protective ward against weapons, disease or bad intentions. The bunker could probably take a direct hit from a tactical nuke - say, four kilotons or so." Bo whistled, impressed.

"You were askin' about guns, yeah? Well, check _this_ out…"

She hauled open a huge, heavily armoured sliding door. The contents of the chamber beyond were surely a survivalist's heaven.

There were racks and racks of weapons of all kinds, and myriad boxes of ammo. Several tubes of various lengths Bo recognised as bazookas, LAWs and RPG launchers. She could clearly smell C4. One entire wall was covered in bladed weapons, ranging from throwing knives and shuriken to katanas and broadswords; Bo, a keen aficionado herself, was briefly lost in admiration.

"And the _pièce de résistance_," Dione finished proudly, pointing at a large, low shape at one end of the chamber. As the lights came up, Bo could see it for what it was: some kind of armoured assault vehicle, equipped with rocket launchers and something she recognised from various Schwarzenegger films as a Minigun, mounted on top.

"Are these big enough for you, Bo?" Dyson asked, grinning savagely.

"Ohhh, _yeah_," Bo returned the grin, _"lock an' load!"_

x

Kenzi was having a far worse time of it. True, she'd been fed (the servant taking a nibble first, at her fearful insistence), and she hadn't been harmed…so far. But that didn't stop her being more scared than she'd ever been. Right now she'd rather be back in the closet her stepfather used to lock her in.

She was secured to a table, immobilised and naked. The Morrigan now approached, smiling gently. She stroked Kenzi's body with her fingertips; Kenzi did her best not to cringe, thinking that'd offend the bitch, as that seemed a _very_ bad idea. She was uneasily aware of how sharp the Morrigan's nails were, but the caress didn't hurt at all.

Somehow, that fact scared her more.

She'd expected a taunt of some kind; that was pretty much the staple of fiends and villains. But the Morrigan's first words to her naked prisoner were way out in left field: "Are you into art at all?"

"Huh?"

"It's a simple question, and there is a point to it, which I'll get to in due course. Are you into art?"

Kenzi had to think about that one. She _had_, briefly, gone through a sort of Andy Warhol phase years back, and she'd done the odd tag here and there, but she quickly recognised she didn't really have the talent for it, preferring to admire the work of other street dudes who did. She shrugged as well as the restraints would allow. "Not so much; I guess I'm in the I-don't-know-art-but-I-know-what-I-like school," she confessed.

"Mmm, yes, in common with most humans and Fae, sadly," the Morrigan observed, unsurprised. "I'm far more appreciative; in my line of work, I have to be."

"You _work?_" Kenzi blurted, honestly surprised at the notion of the Morrigan, clearly a high-born member of Fae society, earning a salary or whatever.

The Morrigan apparently realised her implication and didn't take offence. "Yes, I _work_," she quipped. "I manage a talent agency - I don't suppose you've heard of Imbas Talents?" She wasn't surprised when Kenzi shook her head. "I sponsor artists of all kinds, and I feed from them - you might say I'm a muse," she added casually. "The Celtic name for my kind is _Leanan Sidhe._ You know how Bo, as a succubus, creates sexual arousal and energy in people, then feeds on the very energy she creates? I do much the same; I inspire my artists, and I feed on their creative energy. It's a win-win; I get sustenance aplenty, and they achieve heights of creativity they'd never manage on their own. I've been doing it for centuries, though it's only in the last few decades, with the invention of television and the like, that I bothered to formalise the process by creating Imbas."

Kenzi was forced to admit to herself that this was interesting…in the 'know your enemy' sense. Bo would probably like to hear this stuff, she thought. Out loud, she wondered, "Anyone famous I might've heard of?"

"Well, there was one very special artist; I imagine even a street urchin like you - yes, I do know _that_ much - has heard of him: _Vincent van Gogh._" She smiled fondly. "God, he was delicious."

"Hey, wasn't he the one who went grade-A crazy an' cut off his ear an' stuff?"

"Yes, he _did_ go off the rails…partly _my _fault, I'm afraid." She noticed Kenzi's puzzled look. "It's a basic rule of the universe that the light which burns twice as bright burns half as long…and poor Vincent burned so very, very brightly, Kenzi. _'Starry starry night…Paint your palette blue and grey…Look out on a summer's day, with eyes that know the darkness in my soul…'_" she sang softly, to Kenzi's complete surprise, but she was far too young to place the reference. "My serving as their muse comes at a price, you see; my clients tend to go mad and end up in early graves." Somehow Kenzi wasn't surprised. "But while they last, oh, they _shine_.

"Vincent, though…oh, he had so much more to give to the world, and to me, but…" she sighed with what Kenzi was sure was genuine sadness. "He had unique colour vision, you see; he saw colours with a resolution and depth no other human, or even Fae, could match. Imagine it as the difference between videotape and Blu-Ray. He could see colours there weren't even words for - and that was the problem. He literally _could not depict what his eyes saw._ The pigments available then simply couldn't reproduce the colours he could perceive no matter how he mixed them, and the strain of trying broke him. It didn't help that he was half-gone already before I ever even discovered him," she sighed again. "If he were around today he'd have been diagnosed with bipolar disorder and depression, and he could have been treated, but such things weren't known back then. His ignorant peers just called him crazy, and in the end even _he_ believed it. He shot himself…or so the official history has it.

"In fact, _I_ shot him."

"_You_ did? _Why?_ Wasn't he your meal ticket?"

"I suppose you'd call it compassion. I honestly couldn't stand to see him suffering any more, and trying to draw on him was too painful. I tried to put him out of his misery, but I wasn't a very good shot back then. He ran, visited two doctors, both of whom were _useless,_ and died 29 hours later, from infections. All I can say is that I _tried _to be kind. What would _you_ have done?"

"I don't know," Kenzi admitted honestly. This was a side to the Morrigan she'd never imagined. Bo was gonna love hearin' all this..._if I live to tell it, _she couldn't help thinking.

"You know what the really annoying part was? The humans, so typically, didn't learn to really appreciate him until _after_ he was dead! Nowadays, you can't walk into the Louvre or the Tate without _someone_ waxing lyrical about his unappreciated genius - if they'd only had the sense to see it _then_, when he _needed_ them to, he might have done more!

"Or if he'd only lived today…modern computer monitors can display more distinct colours than the human or Fae eye can even _see_; he'd have loved them. He could've done so much with art software; he might have been able to say everything he wanted to. Oh, for a time machine…" She shrugged. "Oh, well. Now, to the point: tell me, have _you_ ever wanted to _be_ a work of art, Kenzi?"

"Say what?" Kenzi asked, honestly puzzled, though she had a sinking feeling Art Appreciation Hour was over, and they were now returning to the scheduled programme. She was right.

"I have a friend, Dolores Eztli; she was an Aztec, who left just before the _conquistadores_ arrived. She's what you might call a performance artist - a sculptor…well, a carver, really. I doubt you've heard of her, so you wouldn't be expected to know her favourite medium of expression…" Her face took on a predatory, sadistic aspect, as she breathed, lingering over every maliciously-spoken word: _"…living…human…flesh."_

She took a moment to allow that to sink in, then continued softly, "Her last masterpiece, which she's looking to improve on, was an eighteen-year-old girl; actually, it was the girl's birthday," she recalled conversationally. "Dolores skinned her alive." Kenzi couldn't help moaning in fear. "The remarkable thing was that she got the entire skin off in _one piece_, really amazing work. The girl even _survived_, would you believe. Then," the Morrigan continued with cruel relish, whispering into Kenzi's ear, "Dolores applied the finishing touch; she sewed the skin back onto her…_inside out._"

That was too much for poor Kenzi; her bladder cut loose. She was now utterly terrified.

The Morrigan was only amused. "I really should make you clean that up…with your tongue. But I'd have to release the restraints, and given the state of sheer terror I imagine you're now in," she added, with sadistic amusement, "I'm sure you're desperate enough to try pretty much anything. No, I think you can just stew in it for a while. It won't distract Dolores, I'm sure; she's dedicated to her craft." She cocked her head quizzically. "What, no sass? Oh, I'm shocked."

Kenzi wasn't the type to plead, but this was no time for pride. The worst part of it wasn't that the Morrigan was _going_ to make her suffer…it was that she _wanted_ to. Of all evil things in the world, the one that Kenzi had never been able to understand was sadism. There'd been many a person she'd wished ill - her stepfather pretty much topping the list - but she'd never wanted to _hurt_ anyone, and didn't understand anyone who did. It was the _desire_, not the act, which scared her more than anything.

"Please," she begged, whispering, "please, just let me outa this thing…_please…_you _know_ Bo's gonna come, you don't need this torture shit…"

"Oh, I don't _need_ it, no," Evony agreed. "But it's been a while since I had some extreme entertainment. Well, unless you count the recording I made of Bo and Damon rutting, that is, with him halfway shifted. There was blood everywhere…mmm, now _there_ was an extreme porn film!" she laughed.

To her surprise, Kenzi's reaction to that wasn't fear, but shock and outraged anger. "You _bitch!_ You were _watching them? You filthy bitch!_" she screamed, offended on Bo's behalf.

"Now, now," the Morrigan chided, though she was itching to whip out a flensing knife and carve this little human slut's face to the bone herself, "that's no way to talk to someone who has the power of life and death over you, is it?"

"You'd better kill me anyway! You might as well," she taunted, feeling somehow braver, "'cause Bo's just gonna totally kill your ass when she finds out what you did to me! Or Damon will, when he finds out about that recording!" she bluffed, knowing all too well the big gorgeous guy had to be dead by now. She could only pray the Morrigan didn't know that.

The way her face jumped in momentary fear told Kenzi she didn't. "Not a threat which can be ignored, I agree. But he'd never do anything to endanger his child, even though he never wanted one. Commitment issues, or something," she explained vaguely. "Once I have Bo, _all_ the cards are mine. I'll keep you as hostage for her behaviour - I might see about acquiring that cute doctor of hers, too," she added carelessly, "as she's medically skilled and well acquainted with Bo…and as another hostage; I know Bo's sweet on her." She licked her lips. "Not that I can blame her; the doc's a tasty little piece, isn't she?

"After that, well, we can always clone the baby, and add a few variations so they don't attract attention by all looking exactly the same." She grinned. "In two decades or so, I'll have a small _army_ of succubi - irresistible, deadly, and totally loyal. They'll infiltrate human society at the highest levels, influence economic and social policy…oh, it'll be great. It'll be done gradually, of course; it wouldn't do for the Light Fae to notice. Once the humans are under my control - I figure it'll take maybe sixty years or so, there's no rush - I'll effectively control the Fae food supply, and hence the Fae. I won't even _need_ a war. It's possible I won't even need to kill anyone. Certainly I'll do away with those dreadful nukes, and all sources of pollution, ASAP." Her grin turned into a gentle smile that didn't deceive Kenzi in the least. "Now, doesn't that sound good?"

"Sounds terrifying," Kenzi quavered. The Morrigan chuckled, genuinely amused. "An' you've still gotta get Bo!"

"Would you satisfy my imprudent curiosity about something?" the Morrigan asked, in an apparent _non sequitur._

"Maybe, if I knew what it meant," Kenzi managed to quip, though in fact she did.

"I find it always pays to properly assess my assets," Evony told her mildly. "You're something of an unknown quantity…as is Bo. So what, exactly, are you to her?" She smiled cynically. "Fuck toy? Concubine? Or are you, dare I say it, _lovers_, maybe?"

Kenzi considered her reply (several had occurred to her, all with varying degrees of sass) very carefully; Bo had told her how volatile the uppity bitch was, and given her totally vulnerable and helpless position, Kenzi didn't dare piss her off. The bitter but certain knowledge that Bo would lay the most epic vengeance beat-down of all freakin' time on Evony's shapely ass was small comfort, as she likely wouldn't be around to watch it.

So she went with the only real answer, the simplest and truest:

"We're best friends. That's it," she told the Morrigan, quietly, simply.

"Just that?" she inquired, honestly curious, "Just friendship?"

"After all the shit we've been through," Kenzi told her frankly, "it's more than enough - there's nothing 'just' about it. I'd walk through fire for Bo," she added, with bravado but utter conviction.

"Would you die for her?" the Morrigan murmured.

"Bet your grade-A ass, bitch," Kenzi braved.

"Kenzi, do you think you _are_ going to die here? Do you think," a soft, gentle tone crept into her voice, "I _want_ to kill you?" Evony asked her, stroking her body again. Kenzi exerted every last scrap of resolve she had to keep the sob out of her voice, as she admitted, "Yes."

Even more quietly, the Morrigan asked: "Are you afraid?"

This time Kenzi couldn't keep it back. "Yes…" she whispered, a tear trickling down her cheek. But her breath caught suddenly in her throat as she realised where the Morrigan was going with this:

This evil, crazy bitch _wasn't_ going to kill her. She'd just make Kenzi beg her to do it..._want_ her to do it.

She wet herself again. She couldn't help it.

Now she was _truly_ terrified.

"Don't get me wrong; if Bo doesn't come, or if she's late, you'll find out what the word 'exquisite' _really_ means, Kenzi, as well as its proper usage. But she _will_ come, of course. She won't leave you to suffer. She'd never abandon her _friend…_" the Morrigan smirked, pinching Kenzi's left nipple gently.

"No," Kenzi whispered, near to bursting into tears, knowing too well the Morrigan was quite right, "she won't. She should, but she won't…"

"Almost dawn," the Morrigan observed softly, glancing at her watch. "It won't be long now."

x

She was righter than she knew. In a fit of poor tactical sense, the mansion's architect had left a ridge in place just outside the site's boundaries, instead of bulldozing it flat. Sheltered on the other side of the ridge waited an armoured assault vehicle and a small army of heavily-armed wolves.

And Bo.

_If you've harmed one hair on that girl's head, you perverted bitch,_ Bo swore silently,_ I'll call up the Slua and toss you to that flayer freak of theirs! And _then,_ you evil whore, I will _hurt_ you!_

"Where's she likely to be?" Bo wondered. Dione consulted a screen which, to Bo's surprise, held a complete map of the site. She grinned at Bo's incredulous look. "If you wanna keep details like this secret, doll, it doesn't do to hire a horny female architect with a weakness for wolf shifters. The gal who designed it was boinkin' my cousin, who fibbed just a bit about bein' Dark Fae, on _La Shoshain,_ two years ago. You never know when you might need to break into a place like this."

"Do you have the plans of the Ash's compound, too?" she gaped.

"Yep," Dione grinned, "same method, _three _years ago. For some folk, there's somethin' about wolf shifters that just totally _does_ it for 'em." She laughed not unkindly at the wry expression on Bo's face, which very clearly said 'Tell me about it'.

"Good, I might need 'em someday." _To rescue Lauren, maybe,_ she didn't say out loud.

The map showed a fairly large reinforced concrete structure adjacent to the mansion proper, independently guarded. "That'll be it - combined prison, interrogation room an', ah, funhouse," she growled.

Bo didn't find the subtext hard to decipher. "Torture chamber, you mean?"

Dione nodded grimly.

Bo looked over the map again…and had a sudden guilty thought.

She was essentially asking people she didn't even know to attack the Morrigan, for the sake of someone _they_ didn't even know - a _human_, at that. They'd be risking war. Certainly there'd be casualties.

Did she have the right?

But Dyson then proved how well he knew her by reading her thoughts from her face. "Bo, I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong. This _isn't_ about Kenzi - it's about _you_. The Morrigan wants _you,_ remember - Kenzi doesn't _matter_ to her. She's just the bait. Once Evony has you and your baby, we are _all _screwed, Fae and humans alike. I don't know exactly how she plans to use Mary, but you can bet it'll be something along the lines of world conquest…and with Mary's powers, it just might be doable." He smiled briefly. "It is _worth_ the risk of war to keep you both out of her clutches, Bo. It's also worth _our_ lives."

"Says who?" Dione interjected, but she was grinning as she said it. "Naw, we're good with it, Bo. We ain't had a decent scrap in years, an' this one's worth fightin'." She glanced at her military-issue watch. "We're almost outa time," she observed, looking the mansion over through the AAV's scanners. It looked more like a castle than anything else, with guard towers at each corner and a guardhouse at the front gate. "What's the plan?"

"A simple one," Bo answered grimly. "Blast our way in; kill everyone who gets in our way; find Kenzi; get her the hell out. What else do we need?"

Dyson and Dione exchanged glances.

"She ain't big on plannin', is she?"

"She's more of a direct-approach sort, it's true."

"Works for me, though," Dione grinned. "Plannin's overrated."

"I haven't stormed a castle in a long time," he grinned back. "I forgot how much fun it is."

"Let's do it!"

x

Actually, it all started very quietly. The first shot fired was Brannigan's Bane, a spell of sorts that was the Fae equivalent of an EMP (to be more accurate, it had been discovered to have the same effect, though its original purpose was to blind magical surveillance), to cut off communications as a necessary first step; the last thing they needed was reinforcements cutting off their retreat. The instant the lights on the border fence went out, Dione howled, _"ATTACK!"_

The AAV's engine revved as it cleared the ridge.

x

The first the Morrigan knew of it, apart from the lights' failure, was the incredibly loud sound of the guardhouse exploding violently upon direct hits from two LAW rockets, followed by the ear-splitting roar of the Minigun as Dyson methodically hosed down the few survivors. The AAV's driver opened up his throttle, and the vehicle accelerated at full speed for the perimeter fence. Sniper wolves, following in its wake, targeted guard towers and anyone Dyson had missed with his initial barrage. The fence didn't stand a chance; it was ripped asunder as the AAV ploughed through it without pause.

"What the fuck was _that?_" the Morrigan demanded of no-one in particular. A servant stumbled through the door, clearly petrified, and stammered, "Milady, we're under attack -!"

There was another explosion. "Oh, you _think?_" she screamed. _"Where are my forces?"_

x

The implied criticism was misplaced; they'd responded instantly. It wasn't their fault the enemy was equipped with such an unexpected but devastating weapon as the General Electric M134 Minigun, which accounted for several of them before they even knew where the attackers _were._ Their surprise didn't last as long as Dyson might have hoped; they were soon dug into defensive positions and returning fire.

And not all of their weapons were conventional.

Bo looked on in horror as a wolf was hit by a blinding bolt of red and green fire, which consumed him in seconds; he died shrieking in agony, and only smouldering ashes remained.

_"What in God's name was THAT?"_ she screamed at Dyson, who thankfully was sheltered behind an armoured screen while manning the Minigun.

"God's got nothing to do with _this,_ Bo," he yelled back, returning fire, "Fae weaponry! _Now_ do you see why we don't want a war?"

The AAV was hit by another bolt; the entire vehicle - and, to Bo's shock, its occupants - glowed red and green, but nothing else happened. "Well, what was _that_, a dud?"

"You get what you pay for," Dione yelled merrily over the sounds of battle, "that's fairy dust in the armour, sweetheart! They can't _touch_ us in _here!_" She tapped the shoulder of the girl manning the rocket launchers. "Hit 'em again, Beth!"

The girl grinned savagely and did just that. The tower from which the bolts had been loosed collapsed in a bright blaze of flame. Dione ordered over the radio: "Squad One: coverin' fire. Squad Two: make for the funhouse - we'll meet you there with the AAV. Move it, people!"

As armed Fae began pouring out of the structure, Dyson started mowing them down. They fired several more bolts of that whatever-it-was from the glowing amulets they were carrying, but they had no effect. Of course, once they got out of the AAV it'd be a different matter, but…

The AAV was hit by several conventional weapons, too, as the defenders realised their magical ordnance wasn't doing the job, but the fairy dust-imbued armour still held firm. The noise inside was loud as hell, though. Beth simply grinned again and fired her last rocket, obliterating the structure's entrance - and half its defenders - as she did so.

But now the wolves were bringing up the rear, and the remaining defenders decided to deal with them first, the AAV having proved apparently impregnable. With a joint roar, the wolves gladly shifted, and violent, bloody hand-to-hand and hand-to-claw combat ensued, the compound ringing to the sound of roars, snarls and screams. As for the AAV, the driver, at Dione's order, simply floored the accelerator, and the AAV rammed its way through the entrance, ploughing for nearly twenty feet inside the structure.

Wolves and Bo exploded out of it, firing as they went. Dione, in particular, proved to be a deadly markswoman; every round she fired from either of her Beretta M93 handguns was either lethal or disabling. Dyson was providing them with covering fire from his Sig-Sauer P226, but mostly shooting to kill…and doing so. Bo, for her part, had tooled up with multiple blades, being more comfortable with them, throwing shuriken after shuriken. Her aim, too, was deadly, the hours of practice in the clubhouse finally paying off. Men were falling left and right with her throwing stars embedded in faces, necks and chests.

They made their way further inside, killing everyone they met, entirely according to plan. They were taking casualties as they went, but it was hard to see in the smoke and dim light - which was where Dione and her wolves were taking full advantage of their noses to guide them. "I smell a human," Dione suddenly reported, "this way!"

"It's Kenzi," Dyson confirmed grimly. On hearing that, Bo raced down the passageway Dione had indicated. An armed flunky appeared, and received a throwing knife in his left eye for his trouble. "Out -" Bo growled to him even as he fell dead, "- of -" She threw another, spearing a second flunky through his right lung, "- my -" A third man fell to the heel of her hooked hand smashing into his nose and splintering the cartilage, killing him instantly as the shards lanced into his brain, _"- way!"_

Dyson couldn't help but take a moment to admire her prowess; he'd never seen her fight better. Dione, too, was impressed. She received a call from one of her wolves, answered it and said tersely, "They need me out there. You got this?"

"We've got it," Dyson assured her. "Go." They hugged briefly, and she hurried out, followed by her surviving wolves.

Finally there were no more guards in front of them, only a tough-looking door. Dyson and Bo exchanged glances.

"Together," he nodded to her. She took his hand.

"Thank you for this," she told him sincerely. _"Together!"_

Their booted feet slammed into the door, which to their surprise gave way; its looks were a bluff, apparently.

The instant the door went down, the Morrigan, no slouch herself when it came to close-quarter combat, fired a snapshot, grazing Bo's arm. Dyson roared in fury, closed the distance between them with lupine speed and slapped the gun out of her hand with such force he broke two of her fingers, and the gun shattered on hitting the reinforced concrete wall. He cocked his own gun and drew a bead on the Morrigan's forehead. "Call a ceasefire _now_," he ordered bluntly.

"I can tell from the sound you only had one bullet left in the clip," the Morrigan observed professionally, fighting the pain.

"I only _need_ one," Dyson snarled.

_"Kenzi!"_ Bo cried on seeing her, relieved and fearful at the same time, utterly ignoring the Morrigan, for all that she was hoping Dyson _would_ shoot her. "Are you okay -?"

"I'm fine," Kenzi returned, and her usual sass returned with a vengeance. "Bitch didn't have the balls to _do_ anythin' to this fine body o' mine - I guess I just stunned her with my utter beauty."

Bo laughed, ripped the restraints away as if they were tissue paper and hugged her friend fiercely to her; then both were crying in relief. _She's so warm and beautiful,_ Bo couldn't help thinking; somehow the thought of Kenzi in a sexual context never entered her mind, even though she was naked. _Thank God we got here in time._

"You came, again," Kenzi sobbed.

"You'd have done it for me, Kenz," Bo sobbed back. "I couldn't leave you here."

The Morrigan spared them a glance, initially intending to roll her eyes and sigh, "Oh, please, shoot me already," but there was something in the touching, genuine scene that changed her mind. If anything, she was mildly jealous; she'd never found anyone she trusted as much as these two trusted each other.

She turned instead to Dyson and decided to try an official stance. "You're Light Fae. You are trespassing on Dark Fae territory. Worse, you are endangering Dark Fae Elders, not just me; several are currently my guests," she told him angrily. "With this attack you're risking _war_, and for _what?_" She glared at Bo. "A woman you don't even _love_ anymore, or so rumour has it?" she taunted him.

"But I _do,_" Dyson told her very quietly but with certainty, briefly sparking hope in Bo before he finished," as a dear friend. I've killed for love before, and for friendship; killing _you_…it'd be a pleasure, and well worth any punishment the Ash might impose on me." He levelled the gun. "Do it, or die."

She sighed, bowing to the inevitable. Still covered, she took out her phone slowly and carefully and dialled quickly. "This is the Morrigan. Cease fire. All forces _cease fire immediately._"

He borrowed Bo's phone and called Dione. "It's done. We have her. Cease fire, but _hold your positions,_ just in case."

_"Copy that, brother. Is she okay?"_

"She's good." He hesitated, but he had to know: "Your people?"

She didn't reply at first. _"I'm not sure."_

The sound of gunfire ceased. The sound of moans and screams didn't.

"So, are we goin' home, or what?" Kenzi demanded, dressing rapidly.

"Sure we are," Bo grinned. "Right this -" She broke off, with a peculiar expression on her face. "Uh…I…I don't…" She gasped in sudden pain and staggered, bent double.

"Bo, what's wrong?" Kenzi asked, concerned, "You okay, girlfriend?"

"No…something…" She gasped again, clearly in agony. "Something's _wrong…_"

She instinctively looked down.

To her utter horror, blood was flowing from between her legs. She knew instantly what was happening. She screamed.

To their astonishment, the Morrigan tossed them a set of car keys. "The red Ferrari," she snapped urgently, "in the courtyard! _Go!_"

x

Under different circumstances, it would've been the most enjoyable drive of Kenzi's life; the Ferrari, a brand new F12berlinetta, held the road better and more smoothly than anything she'd ever handled. She herself had never driven so skilfully...or so fast. The weight of the knowledge that Bo - and her baby - were depending on her gave her a measure of resolve such as she'd never experienced before, a tremendous sense of _responsibility._

She was determined not to let Bo down - not ever, but especially not _now._

Traffic meant nothing. Cops meant less than nothing. Even pedestrians didn't figure into it; they'd have to take their chances.

All that mattered was her destination.

_Please, God, let me get there in time…_

She risked a glance in the rear-view mirror, and wished she hadn't. Bo was convulsed in agony, and the rear seat was covered in her blood.

She floored it.

She broke speed limits - and records - getting Bo to Lauren, and Bo was screaming all the way there. Her diagnosis was immediate: "She's miscarrying! Get her on the table, _now!_ Bo, you have to hang on! Breathe! Just _breathe!_"

x

Miles away, in his home, Trick suddenly jerked in pain. He knew instantly what it was.

_So it comes…so _I_ am not paying the price…but it must be paid. Always it must be paid._

_ But why the innocent…?_

And then it hit him. He knew why. The knowledge hurt worse than the actual pain.

He wept bitterly, while knowing he entirely deserved it.

x

"Bo, just breathe! Oh-two, _now!_" Lauren yelled to her assistant, who was crying.

"Help her!" Bo was screaming and struggling as the assistant fought to place the oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. _"Please!"_

"Bo, we're doing everything we can! Prep her for surgery! For God's sake, _move_, or we'll lose them _both!_" She gathered surgical tools and practically threw them onto their table. "We'll have to sedate her, I can't operate like this!"

_"NO!"_ Bo screamed hysterically. _"Lauren, save her! Please save her!"_

_ I can't, Bo,_ Lauren despaired, but didn't say it out loud. _The most I can do is to save _you.

The trembling assistant finished preparing the shot and moved to deliver it; Bo struck out with insane strength, shattering the girl's forearm. Lauren somehow caught the syringe before it hit the floor as the poor girl staggered back, screaming in agony, and cried, "Bo, you _have_ to calm down before I can do _anything!_ I will do _everything I can_, you _know_ that! But I need you to _help me!_"

"Lauren…" Bo sobbed, clutching at her, "if you have to…to make a choice…please, save Mary…save my baby…_please…_"

It was a promise Lauren knew bitterly she could keep, without even lying to Bo. There was surely no more choice to be made, but she would go through the motions. "I promise, Bo," she told her sincerely, truthfully but lying through her teeth.

Bo's shuddering hysterical sobs quieted somewhat as the highly potent sedative took rapid effect. It was something Lauren herself had devised, based on her research work; fast-acting, precisely tuneable in terms of its duration - anything from thirty seconds to thirty hours, in increments as short as fifteen seconds, depending on the exact dosage - and with no side-effects whatsoever, equally effective on humans or Fae.

She'd once estimated the patent would be worth $800 million or more, if only…

To her amazement, Bo was fighting it; the dose she'd administered would've knocked Dyson out in three seconds or less. Hell, it would've knocked _Damon_ out in five or six at most. But Bo was still muttering "Save her…save her…" a full, incredible _twelve_ seconds after the injection.

"Suction," Lauren ordered, as Bo finally succumbed, "_lots_ of suction. God, I've never _seen_ a woman bleed this badly…"

x

She worked for six hours straight. Amazingly, the baby _was_ still alive by the time Lauren reached her with the tender, brutal tools of her profession, but the way her vitals were dipping told her there was little hope. She did try, of course. But everything she did either had no effect or made things worse.

_But_, she wondered despairingly,_ why, _why_ is this _happening…?

As always in tense situations, the coldly analytical part of her mind proposed a plan as inspired as it was desperate. There was one chance, just one…if Lauren could remove her from Bo's womb and place her in stasis, and if Bo could then undergo prolonged healing by drawing as much chi as she could from as many young, virile Fae as possible, re-implantation at a later date might be feasible.

But she was nowhere near being ready to safely remove the foetus before her life signs fell suddenly to zero. Lauren froze, unbelieving. _It can't be - the equipment's faulty, surely._ But there was no malfunction, as she swiftly confirmed. _No…oh, no…_

She signalled resignedly to the medical team to stop working, crying herself now. There was no possibility of resuscitating such a young, tiny foetus, none whatsoever. It was over.

She'd failed. Mary was dead.

All that was left was helping Bo. First the…body…had to be removed from Bo's womb, to avoid putrefaction and sepsis. Then Bo would need massive blood transfusions, to prevent her slipping into post-operative shock…

She settled into the familiar motions of routine post-partum procedure; luckily there seemed to be very little damage, requiring a minimum of surgical repair - but in Bo's case it wouldn't be necessary. What little healing was needed would be taken care of when next she fed on someone's chi.

Lauren promised herself bitterly it would be hers.

x

"We lost nine," Dione told Dyson wearily, hugging him as they picked up the pieces, attending to the injured and the fallen; the Morrigan didn't seem interested in stopping them. Neither of them particularly cared why. "Two of 'em ain't nothin' but ashes, though - that fuckin' Dragon's Breath," she cursed. "We'll pick up what we can, but…"

Dyson didn't reply. He'd lost too many wolves himself this day, and a friend. Neither needed to ask what the other was feeling. As both knew too well, it was the price one paid for the privilege of being the Alpha of a pack:

Sooner or later, you would lose one.

"Just tell me one thing, brother," she asked, with no bitterness, "was it _worth_ it?"

He wanted to tell her it was. A few months ago, when he still had his love for Bo, he'd have been in no doubt. Now, though…

But he couldn't lie to his sister. _Elder _sister, he corrected wryly.

"I'm…not sure," he admitted. "She's my friend, as is Kenzi, but…"

But Dione smiled at that. "For friends, it's _always_ worth it."

x

_The next day_

"Milord, the Morrigan demands audience," a servant told Lachlan.

"Oh, really," he replied, bored, idly examining his fingers. "She should know better; my predecessor would no doubt have tolerated 'demands' from the Morrigan, but _I_ do _not_. Have her wait until _I_ decide, to remind her that this is _not_ her domain, nor will it _ever_ be." He smirked. "Make sure you tell her so, will you?"

The servant gulped, but he could hardly disobey the Ash. "Y - Yes, milord."

"Actually, I think I'll catch a nap," he yawned, and did so.

x

On awakening some time later, he gazed at a just-summoned and trembling Lauren, kneeling before him in a way that would've earned Bo's fury had she been present to see it. "Now, my dear, we come to _you._"

"Yes, milord," Lauren murmured, not even trying to hide her fear. Not for herself, though…

"You enjoy my protection, as you did that of my predecessor, under certain - conditions, don't you?" She nodded. "Such as, oh, let's see…obeying my orders, and those of my Elders. Yes?"

She nodded again.

"There seems to have been a distinct _lack_ of obedience in your behaviour lately, Lauren," he observed, with a mildness that didn't fool her for an instant, "so much so that I'm actually considering terminating certain…aspects…of the protection. Oh, _you're_ too valuable to let go, and too dangerous if that witch currently awaiting audience," he smirked, "were to catch you; but there are, shall we say, _others _who might suffer. Or _one_ other, at least," he finished meaningfully.

_Please, no, _Lauren begged silently, not daring to say a word. A life was at stake…and so much more.

"I'm a great believer in motivation, though," he noted matter-of-factly, "so here's what we'll do: you may consider yourself on probation until - oh, let's say until further notice. I'll allow you a certain degree of latitude where Bo's concerned - I have a feeling it'd be futile doing anything else - but from this point on, if you are given an order, _property_, I shall expect you to _obey_ it. Is that clear?"

She nodded once more, and then yelped in fear as he rapped harshly, _"Speak!"_

"Yes, milord," she whispered, not daring to meet his eyes lest he see the tears in her own.

"I hope so, Lauren…for _her_ sake," he murmured. "Go, then. Oh, and on your way out," he added, grinning now, "tell Evony I'm ready to see her now. I, ah, know how much she enjoys talking to the help," he smirked. Lauren almost smiled at that.

Almost.

x

"Yes, Evony?" the Ash inquired, all suave politeness, when she strode furiously into his audience chamber…nearly four hours after she'd first arrived.

"What does your _dog,_" she spat viciously, "have to say for himself, after an attack on _my home_, causing _millions_ in property damage, to say nothing of the deaths of several members of my staff? An _unsanctioned_ attack, I might add! Oh, and don't think this is just _me_ complaining; the Dark Elders hereby lodge an official protest, through me! Some of them were _present_ during this attack, their persons placed in danger as a direct result! What do you intend to do about this?"

"Nothing that hasn't already been done," he answered dismissively, enjoying her apoplectic reaction. "Actually, Dyson was no longer of the Light Fae at the time, owing to - ah - certain issues of insubordination. Since that time, however, he has…redeemed himself, and been welcomed back into the fold...on probation, of _course._ As for Bo, well, she is secular, and technically not under my authority."

"So you disavow his actions? Oh, _very_ convenient! You don't actually expect me to _believe_ this bullshit, do you?" she almost screamed, incensed by his demeanour even though she knew that was his intent.

"No more, perhaps, than I expect _you_ to admit to your part in an attempted illegal breeding," the Ash returned coldly. "Oh, yes, I've been informed by Aiobheann about that little matter, which occurred in my absence. It seems, too, that Bo was _manipulated_ into joining the Dark Fae - also contrary to our laws regarding the swearing of allegiance, laws which forbid coercion, blackmail…or _deception_," he continued sternly. "Taking advantage of Bo's admittedly lamentable ignorance of the law? Tsk, tsk, shame on you, Evony.

"But if I must answer your allegations, then _you_ must answer _mine_, which are of considerably more import, though I rather doubt you're willing to do that." His expression turned stony, and the Morrigan knew she wasn't going to get anywhere with this cast-iron son of a bitch.

He was right, damn his well-dressed ass.

"I should put your _own_ house in order, my dear Evony, if I were you, before you start rearranging the furniture in mine. Actually," he reflected casually, his face brightening, "I _could_ rather do with some advice on that point. Would curtains work with those windows, do you think…?"

He was clearly laughing at her now, but she knew too well he wouldn't dare take such an attitude without the full backing of the Light Elders. Certainly they might have been less than impressed with the possibility of a super-succubus roaming their land. Short of declaring war, there was nothing really she could do.

She was sorely tempted, though. But she couldn't justify it; the attack was personal, not on behalf of the Light Fae. She'd been informed that the pack which attacked was the Wolves of Armageddon, not Dyson's own, but they were a mercenary group who owed little or no allegiance to the Light, or at least not to Lachlan. The Dark Elders would never back her on this. The plan had failed with the deaths of Damon (she'd been torn between rage and grief on hearing that, but settled on the rage) and the baby (though that, at least, wasn't _her_ fault).

Still shaking with suppressed, murderous rage, she turned on her elegant heel and departed. There'd be another time, she knew; for Fae, there was all the time in the world. But, she promised herself savagely, once she'd conquered all, Lachlan would be the first to be handed straight to Dolores, and she'd have the girl make his skin into a jacket.

It was something to look forward to.

As for Dyson, if she could she'd skin him _twice_ - first as Man, then as Wolf!

x

"Can I help you?" Lauren asked, desperately tired, as a tall - very tall - woman entered the infirmary. She wanted so badly to go home and collapse, but it was unthinkable while Bo needed her. She forced her exhausted brain to work on processing the image, and finally recognised the visitor. "Um, Dione, isn't it? Dyson's sister?"

"Yeah," Dione answered quietly. "I'd like to see Bo, if she's up to it." She sighed. "I heard she lost the kid. I've been there, maybe I can help…"

Lauren nodded, touched Dione's arm in wordless appreciation, and indicated that Dione should follow her.

x

"What brings you here?" Bo wondered, sounding as if she didn't care, unsurprisingly.

"I've been where you're at," Dione told her softly. "You remember I said I've twelve cubs? That doesn't count the _eighteen_ I lost, before I sorta got the hang of it. They weren't all one after another, mind you; I'd have a few okay, lose a couple…that sort of thing."

That caught Bo's attention; she seemed to _see_ Dione now. "You've…lost children?"

"Yeah," she confirmed quietly. "Some were born dead, some weren't born at all."

"I'm sorry," Bo sympathised.

"Oh, I'm over it, I guess; it _was_ a long time ago. It gets easier eventually, y'know, but in the meantime…well, I know just how you're feelin': lost, alone, an' worst of all, empty. Right?" she asked gently.

"Yes," Bo whispered brokenly.

"An' I know there's nothin' I can say that'll make it stop hurtin', so I'm not gonna patronise you by tryin'. I just…wanted you to know. You're not alone, Bo." She squeezed Bo's hand; Bo smiled gratefully, somehow.

"Thanks, Dione. Thanks for all your help, too. I…I'm sorry about the pack members you lost. I know I'm not the only one grieving today."

"No," she agreed soberly, "but, hey, they were warriors. They knew the score, Bo. I'm proud of 'em, every one."

They talked a while longer, and Dione invited Bo to the farewell ceremony that would be held on the night of the next full moon; Bo accepted, feeling she owed them.

They had, after all, died for her.

x

After Dione left, Bo thought for a while and then called Lauren, who frowned on seeing the uneaten meal. "Lauren, there's something I have to know."

"I always get uneasy when I hear you say that," Lauren admitted. "You really should eat something," she fussed.

"Was it…was it _my_ fault?" she asked tentatively, as if fearing the answer. "Something I did, or didn't do?"

Lauren sighed. She'd been prepared for this; she'd dealt with it before. "No, Bo, it wasn't. At the risk of lecturing you, please listen: as part of my third year internship, I did a stint in obstetrics. I saw women hang onto babies through the most incredible hardships, and I saw others lose apparently healthy babies for no apparent reason, and all grades in between. To be honest, there's so much that can go wrong it often seems a miracle that any babies are born at all -"

"Was it the fighting, or the stress?" Bo persisted.

Lauren shook her head. "_No. _A womb is the biological equivalent of a bomb shelter, Bo. The baby is completely protected from shock, vibration, extremes of heat or cold, disease - even radiation, to an extent, and the younger the baby, the more complete the protection. I once treated a woman who was seven months pregnant, after she'd been beaten everywhere by a crazed crack addict. I _was_ worried at first, but two months later she delivered a perfectly healthy, beautiful little boy.

"Look, Bo, I know what you're thinking," she continued gently, "you're searching for a reason, something to blame. But there _isn't _one_._ _You,_ certainly, are _not at fault_. The baby…" she sighed again, steeling herself for what she had to do, "she was…deformed, badly deformed. She could never have survived to term, and even if she had, you'd have died, too. It happens, sadly," she finished, seeing Bo's look of shock.

"Can I…can I see her?" Bo asked hesitantly. "I need to see her…I can't make myself believe it unless…"

"It's best you don't, Bo," Lauren told her with all the compassion she could muster, "but…I knew you'd likely ask. I took a photo." She extracted it from her pocket. "If you're sure…"

Bo nodded. Her breath caught as Lauren showed her.

The baby's head was misshapen, almost split down the middle. Her legs seemed to be where her arms should have been, and _vice versa_. Her spine was twisted. Other things were…wrong. It was horrific, but Bo couldn't look away.

She looked so _tiny…_

"Mary…" she whispered, tears glistening on her cheeks as she stroked the photo with trembling fingers. "What…what did _this…?_"

"Simple genetics," Lauren answered gently, "though it isn't simple, of course. Without a sperm sample from Damon I can't be sure, but I think you were just incompatible." At Bo's look of incomprehension, she went on, "I once knew a farmer and his wife; they had fourteen children - eight were his from a previous marriage, six hers, _none theirs._ I only understood it when I read the genetic workup they'd had done after she had three miscarriages in a row." She looked wry. "Some people, it seems, can _never_ have too many children. Of course, there was never any suggestion that that swarm of kids," she smiled at the memory, "was anything but 'theirs', and rightly so.

"You see, when two people make a baby, it can happen that while _he_ can have healthy babies, and _she_ can, _they_ can't, because bad genes carried by each parent are reinforced. The result is usually lethal mutation…like this. It's tragic for the affected couples, I know, but it's how Mother Nature - who is a cast-iron stone-cold bitch most of the time - gradually weeds out bad genes. The greatest strength of genetics, and the reason it's so damn complicated, is the fact that it's a crapshoot. The random but essential factors mean you can never tell exactly _what's_ going to happen."

"And we rolled Snake Eyes," Bo said hollowly, understanding now.

"I'm afraid so." Lauren touched Bo's arm and steeled herself again. There was one last thing she had to do, if this was going to work. "Bo, if you want me to, I can…I can perform an autopsy, determine the exact cause of death, and maybe do a genetic workup…"

But Bo shook her head tearfully, as she'd expected and hoped. "No…no, just leave her be, please. She's…gone," Bo finished brokenly, as it finally hit her. "She's _gone…oh, Mary…_"

_It worked,_ Lauren thought with no sense of triumph, and held Bo as heartbroken, bitter sobs wracked her shuddering frame, comforting her as best she could…which wasn't much. Once Lauren was sure Bo had cried herself to sleep, she very gently extricated herself and settled Bo back, tucking her in with all the care of a mother putting her child to bed. Then she left to fill out the medical report.

It would, she thought, have to be a masterpiece of fabrication, as was the mock-up foetus she'd created from a contaminated tissue culture. Try though she might, she couldn't make herself feel guilty about the lie she'd just told. Better a kind lie than the harsh, terrible truth…

_Keep that for the Journal,_ she mused. _It still must be told…_

x

"That," Dyson sighed, in Trick's living chamber, "could have gone a _lot_ worse."

"For who," Trick asked soberly, "for Bo? The last I heard, she isn't even eating."

"I know," Dyson murmured. "She was an innocent victim…and not the only one." He sipped his mead tiredly. "She was called Mary."

"After Bo's adopted mother, yes," Trick nodded.

"Lachlan's shown his true colours, too…he was trying to turn Bo against me, by sending me after her - divide and conquer," he scowled, sipping again.

"Mmm. Hardly the most inspired tactic, not particularly subtle, but often effective. The question is, did it work?"

"No," he shook his head in relief, "Bo saw through it. When she's - damn, I was going to say 'recovered' - better, I'm sure she'll give him a piece of her mind." He almost smiled. "With the number of times she's done that, it's a wonder she has any mind left. She doesn't even blame me for Damon's death," he added, not a little bitterly.

"Nor should she," Trick shook his head, "nor should _you._ In a way, _I'm_ to blame." Dyson threw him a puzzled look; he smiled sadly. "Who do you think sent that 'whisper of news', through various channels, to Damon? I thought he had a right to know, but if I'd known how it would turn out…" "I understand, Trick," Dyson nodded. "I might have done the same myself."

Trick sipped, and then sighed as he remarked, "I told Bo a kind lie, you know."

Dyson frowned. "About what?" he wondered.

"I'd already discovered through my own sources who the craftsman was; the only one it could have been…Bethany Jones."

"I've heard of her," Dyson nodded, "she worked a lot with the dwarf metalsmiths; that's how she got the alloy, I imagine." Then he realised: "But - she's been dead twelve years now."

"I know. I knew before I wrote in the Book."

"And you wouldn't write in that Book if it was going to be a waste of time," Dyson observed.

"No, of course not," Trick agreed ruefully.

"So," Dyson asked, understanding now, "what did you _really_ write?"

"I tried, again, to keep Bo safe. This time, though, I know what my punishment is: seeing my friends in pain that I caused - plus the death of her child," he confessed sadly.

"You didn't cause that," Dyson shook his head. "You're not responsible for _everything_."

"No, I _did_ - unintentionally, but something in what I wrote _did_ cause it. I know, because…at the moment she died, I _felt_ it. I _knew_. And I shall carry the burden of that knowledge for the rest of my life. _That_, my friend, is my punishment. Even if, in the long run, it might be best, I committed a terrible though entirely legal crime, and so I accept this punishment…because I _deserve_ it. It is, and will remain, my hairshirt."

"But - Lauren said the baby couldn't have lived, she was too deformed," Dyson protested.

"Am I the only one who can, or might, tell a kind lie?" Trick asked shrewdly. "Would Lauren lie to Bo, if she thought it was in Bo's best interests?"

Dyson sighed, nodding, as he conceded Trick's point. "Of course she would. She _has, _before." He finished his drink, poured another. Trick had barely touched his. "Trick, you remember the toast I made, on _La Shoshain_?"

"Yes, and I remember asking you never to call me that. It's bad enough that Aiobheann and our friends know now, sworn to secrecy or not."

"Nevertheless, I'd like to add to it." He raised his glass. "To the Blood King, to all you've sacrificed, to all you've _achieved_, and may your efforts find their just reward someday."

Trick smiled somehow. "I doubt I deserve it, but…that, my friend, I will drink to."

They clinked glasses.

_x_

_EPILOGUE_

_The Journal of Lauren Lewis, M.D.: My Life With The Fae_

_Entry #763 - October 18th, 2091_

_Event date October 18th, 2011_

_I tried so hard. I tried everything I knew, even a couple of unproven Fae techniques. But the baby still died. To this day, I don't know why._

_Even today, eighty years on, I still cry when I recall Bo's desperate, pleading expression as I called for sedation. At that moment, I knew, she'd have gladly sacrificed everyone she'd ever known if it would save that little mite. She even told me what Aoife had told Lou Ann: 'If you have to make a choice, choose the child.'_

_It never came to that. She died _in utero_, before I could ever get near enough to help her._

_And I lied to Bo. There was _nothing_ wrong with Mary physically; she was a beautiful little foetus, perfect in every way as far as I could tell. Judging by the amount of blood I had to siphon away during the surgery, there was clearly no problem with blood supply, and Bo always ate as well as she could (and as much as she could, something I never stopped teasing her about), so it wasn't a nutritional issue. There was no _reason_ for her to have died, yet she did. I wanted to perform an autopsy, purely so I could at least tell Bo _why,_ give her some closure, but I had to respect her wishes. I guess it's a mystery that'll never be solved._

_I gave her the mock-up foetus when she requested Mary's body, in case she decided to actually look (unlikely, but I couldn't take the risk). She took the 'remains' home, had them cremated and buried them, with her own hands, next to Kyle Williams; she said it seemed fitting, somehow - her first love, her first baby…_

_I couldn't take the chance, either, that Mary's real remains might be stolen or otherwise appropriated and maybe used to clone her, or for some other obscene purpose - I wouldn't put _anything_ past Evony Florette Marquis - so I mixed up a batch of Thermite and cremated her myself. I also took the ashes to the same site, so in a way Bo really _did _bury her there…or, at least, she really _is _buried there. The medical team, who knew the truth, were sworn to secrecy on their blood honour, so they'd lie to Bo, too, if she asked them anything._

_But there are times in medicine when a doctor must make a choice between telling the patient the truth, and doing what her judgement tells her is best for the patient. That's what I did._

_I do not regret the lie I told; I felt it was kinder to Bo. God knows, she deserved that._

_I hope you can forgive me someday, Bo, if you ever read this. I am ready to answer to the Lord, if He exists, for everything I have ever done, good and bad. I've lived a long life, longer than I dared hope given the way things went, and I am content._

_There's more to tell, but it's all in the notes. I'm tired. I need to sleep. The rest of my story can be told by historians, if anyone's interested._

_I'm so tired. Bo, I love_

_ Historian's Note, December 21__st__, 2116: _#763 was the final journal entry transcribed from her notes, and is apparently incomplete.

Dr. Lauren Lewis, M.D., was found dead early in the morning of October 18th, 2091, her pen - a holdover from a much earlier time, of the type known for historical reasons as a 'Biro' - still in her hand. _Casus mortis_ was confirmed as, simply, old age; she was 110. Her recovered notes, once transcribed into holographic form, were hailed as masterpieces of scientific research, and won her four posthumous Nobel Prizes. The work she had done later contributed to the saving of 4,890 million lives when the Thanos virus evolved and spread like wildfire, decimating whole populations as it went. Other discoveries were employed in a variety of fields, including space travel; the voyage to Alpha Centauri of the United Earth Starship _Enterprise _(which was launched in 2105 and should arrive next year, if all goes well) would never have been possible without Dr. Lewis's work, some of which was done with an untraceable volunteer referred to in her notes only as 'Bo'.

Bo's identity was never established, and it is believed this was a codename for some individual who remains nameless to this day. By order of the World Council, a global genetic search was instigated, but Bo, whoever she was, has never been identified. Nor has Aoife, or Lou Ann, or several others mentioned in the notes. An individual known as 'Kenzi' _has_ been identified, but the only possible candidate, Kenzi Belinski, a known runaway according to official records of the time, is unlikely to be the same person; Ms. Belinski was recorded by police as having been found dead early in 2011 in a hotel room, the victim of a heinous crime then known as 'date rape'. The reader may find a sense of justice in noting that her rapist and murderer apparently suffered a highly unusual form of anaphylactic shock, and was found dead in an elevator shortly beforehand.

Such crimes are now unknown, of course, owing partly to the fact that all alcoholic drinks are now, by law, imbued with enzymes which both signal the presence of such drugs, and render them inactive. Ironically, even those we owe to Dr. Lewis's tireless work, derived as they were from aspects of her pure research which were released into the public domain in 2015 - originally credited, for reasons still unclear, to someone else entirely. It is difficult to overstate the tremendous impact she has had on human society, or the enormous good she has done.

The reference to Evony Marquis is inexplicable; it is difficult to imagine how the events described could possibly involve the manager of a thriving talent agency which was responsible for the resurgence of the grunge movement, the so-called Rock Renaissance and the rise to fame of several artists, particularly the world-renowned Jason Baines (1991 - 2030). Nor was it previously known that Ms. Marquis had a middle name. In any case, according to official records she died in 2067, and was succeeded by a much younger woman who resembled her to a remarkable degree (possibly a relative), and who has chosen not to publically release her given name (though under the terms of the Citizens' Privacy Act (2032) she of course has that right).

Bo's identity remains a mystery…one of many in Dr. Lewis's life, not the least of which is: why did she wait for _eighty years_ before transcribing her notes, and what else was she doing in the meantime? Her many references to the Fae are similarly enigmatic, doubtless another codename. It seems ridiculous in these enlightened times that such an eminent scientist and scholar should subscribe to notions of myth and legend.

Even today, she is greatly missed.

The End

Bo will return

In

EmanciFaetion


End file.
